


Guide Finding

by Jael_Lyn



Series: Guide Placement Series [3]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:26:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 118,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael_Lyn/pseuds/Jael_Lyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guide Finding - the third story in the Guide Placement Series.</p><p>Senior Security Investigator James Ellison has rejoined Blair Sandburg, but their path forward is still dangerous.</p><p>**Part way through, it may seem like I should have used some warnings, but have faith.  Things are not as bad as they seem.</p><p>***Cave Falls are actually located in the state of Washington and are really quite remarkable.  I embellished them a bit for my convenience, but not by much.  If you'd like to read about the real thing, try here: </p><p>http://www.waterfallsnorthwest.com/nws/falls.php?num=5083</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story in parts, with a lot of real life interruptions, and it was awfully hard to keep track of the multiple story lines. That showed in an appalling number of typo's and errors that I would not normally make. Even after a major revision, it was still a mess. It's amazing how you read what you intend, not what you actually wrote. 
> 
> I had two wonderful beta's, Merlin and Bluewolf, who have done a tremendous job helping me clean up a long and complicated story. I'm extremely grateful. 
> 
> Find another error? Blame me!
> 
> I owe another debt of gratitude to the LJ Sentinel Thursday community, who are both encouraging and incredibly patient. A little feedback, whether it is positive, critical, or both, is a valuable commodity.
> 
>  
> 
> If you read this in parts at Sentinel Thursday, you'll notice some additional story lines introduced. Yeah. Like I needed to make my life more difficult in the rewrite.

 

Guide Finding Chapter 1

 

_I control everything, and accomplish nothing. How could it have come to this?_

Lord William Ellison leaned his head back and allowed his eyes to drift shut, swept by a combination of fatigue and despair. He'd had such hopes. A long, agonizing night had bled into a bleak dawn, when cold facts banished all illusions.  The plan to retrieve this Sandburg creature had collapsed. With it, the slim opportunity to reclaim his estranged eldest son had come and gone. This was a crushing defeat, a bitter pill for a father to accept.

Knowing he was alone, Lord William allowed himself a groan of anguish, low and bitter.  No one knew how he'd agonized over James' absence.  The memory of his tall, handsome son storming out the door, deserting family and consort, put a knife through his heart, as fresh now as the day it happened.  Outward grief was inappropriate for one of his standing.  For years he'd maintained an appearance of indifference, refusing to even speak the name of his firstborn in public.  No, James was his own, secret pain.

Certainly, he'd been angry at the time, justifiably so. It was his right as a father and Head of House to expect obedience.  Initially, he'd dismissed any suggestion of compromise or overture of reconciliation, certain that after a few years as an ordinary citizen, James would return to the fold.  Sadly, he'd underestimated his son's resolve, or the depth of his feelings.  He'd made a serious attempt at reconciliation when James had returned from a disastrous off-world military mission.  Even then, broken and in pain from his injuries, his son had defied him.  The lines of division were too deep.  He'd failed to bring James home to his proper place. 

Always, he'd held out a secret hope that his son would ultimately return and honor his duties as First Heir of House Ellison. The news that James had been identified as a sentinel, again injured and gravely ill, had shaken him. Confronted with the reality that not only would James never lead House Ellison, but that he would pass without solidifying the lineage of his bloodline, William found himself spurred to decisive measures.  It seemed simple enough - provide a suitable, talented guide, one who would serve James well but ultimately answer to him.  Use the guide to bring James back under his influence. 

In theory, a sound plan.  He'd spared no expense, reserved no means of influence to ensure that James would have the finest choices available.  When that incompetent Edwards bungled the selection process, he'd thrown in with Carolyn Plummer.  Carolyn's desperation to usurp the role of Head of House Plummer had revealed her vulnerability, and he'd ruthlessly exploited that weakness.   William had been confident that his own plans would easily take precedence over any of her crazy schemes when the time came.

When news of the boundary incursion alert had reached him, he'd briefly held out hope that success was still possible. In the small hours of the morning he'd sent for Steven, intending to be ready for any eventuality, only to realize that Steven, his Seneschal, his trusted, had vanished from the estate some time after their last, angry conversation.

Had he truly misjudged Steven so badly?

Careful, deliberate Steven.  Was it possible?  It took genuine effort to evade House Ellison security.  Was Steven off in a fit of temper, or acting with true independence?  William had never even contemplated the possibility that his younger son would follow in the footsteps of the elder and defy him.  As the hours slipped by with no word from Steven, an even more radical thought chilled him.  Could his youngest have sought out his brother?  Would Steven challenge his authority so directly, rebel so blatantly?

There was a rustle of movement behind him, the sound of liquid being poured into fine porcelain.  William knew without looking that Dylan McCabe, his personal attendant, had interrupted his solitude.  "Your coffee, Lord Ellison.  Might I open the viewing bay?  The morning is quite lovely.  You might find it - encouraging."

Lord William accepted the offered cup and saucer, the seductive aroma of coffee drifting upwards.  McCabe had assumed the position vacated by his father a decade earlier, and seemed uncannily able to strike the correct balance of respect and purposeful suggestion. "Thank you, McCabe," William answered with a nod.  "An excellent suggestion.  Always better to embrace the day."

William sipped his coffee as McCabe opened the viewing bay. His private dressing area occupied the east corner of the Ellison estate, facing the morning sky, as was his preference.  Cleverly concealed below the ancient exterior, a sophisticated system of sensors and mechanics exposed the viewing bay and its panoramic vistas of the Ellison estate grounds. The lake where his boys had learned to swim.  The spring-fed creek which dropped precipitously from the eastern forest ridge line, throwing a fine mist into the air as it crashed over the bouldered cataracts.  The orchards and farms just beyond the formal gardens were just beginning to awaken with spring growth.  The grain, water and fuel storage, cleverly concealed to withstand either discovery or assault. This was just a glimpse of the Ellison legacy, nurtured through the centuries of chaos, his to shepherd into the next generation.

Lord William nearly sighed as the morning light brightened the room and his soul.  He would not play the old man overwhelmed by disappointment and care, not yet. Hope dawned with each new day if one was strong enough to will it so.  Enough of this pointless brooding.  It was time to take action.  "McCabe, please have some fresh fruit sent up.  I'll dress in fifteen minutes.  Office attire, but have official regalia available if I need it."  He paused.  "No word on the whereabouts of my son?"

"No, Lord Ellison.  Not as yet.  The routine morning bulletins were just coming in when I came up.  They should be available on your vid screen momentarily."

No sense in displaying undue anxiety to the staff. It was bad for morale. By ingrained habit, William issued his morning directions in a brisk, even tone.  "Very good.  I would like to see Steven as soon as he is available.  In the meantime, send an escort and have the Plummer son summoned."

"Of course, Lord Ellison." McCabe held up the coffee pot, and refilled his employer's  now empty cup. "Gerald, I presume? With or without Lady Carolyn's knowledge?"

 William allowed his eyes to drift over the grounds. A morning breeze had just ruffled the lake, sending ripples racing along its quiet surface.  Laws of physics governed patterns of wave and reflection, predictable since the beginning of time.  The comparison pleased him.  He, Head of House Ellison, was anything but predictable. 

"Without Lady Carolyn's knowledge, yes. Gerald, no.  Tradition is not the only concern when a House passes through unexpected transition.  Send for Philip, the younger son.  And do it quietly, McCabe. Very, very quietly."

&&&&&

_Sentinel. Guide._

Steven Ellison wished he could hold the crystalline moment in his hand.  The commitment between his brother and Blair Sandburg moved him beyond words.  They had both suffered for this moment, and deserved better than a whispered exchange in Security Services Headquarters.

 Steven placed a firm hand on his brother's shoulder. They were of an ancient and honored house, and significant life events were marked with due ceremony, not a shrug and an off-hand comment.  Steven had no intention of wavering from the course he had chosen. He would support his brother in this choice, and other decisions that would certainly follow. Their combined actions were in direct defiance of their father, and only a fool challenged the Head of House Ellison idly.  The next generation of House Ellison needed to present a unified front to win the day.

 "Allow me to be the first to congratulate you. Both of you." After catching Jim's eye, Steven extended his hand toward Blair, with the palm turned upward.  "May all honor your commitment," he said gently, his hazel eyes focused completely on Sandburg.  "I shall personally record your mutual pledges in House Ellison records, as they should be.  You have my word."

 Blair seemed to struggle with a fresh wave of raw emotion. Steven remained still, his palm still extended toward the newly affirmed guide, waiting for the traditional response.

Based on the information Major Incident had gathered and shared, Steven could imagine Sandburg's likely view of events. He would be extremely wary of the aristocracy - any member of the aristocracy.  Moreover, Steven recognized what he represented to the young guide; a member of his sentinel's family, someone of far higher social station, formally acknowledging their choice and pledge.  After such fierce opposition from Lord William, this would seem too fast, too unbelievable.  It would be so hard for Sandburg to trust his intentions. 

 After a few more painful moments, and with obvious effort, Sandburg placed his own hand on Steven's palm, and spoke the traditional response.  "May our efforts be ever worthy."  His shoulders slumped, and he looked down at his bedraggled appearance.  The clothing cobbled together from Jim's living quarters were a poor fit.  He looked the part of a ragamuffin aspiring far above his station.  "I'm sorry - I'm such a mess.  I owe you both so much."

 "Nothing to worry about, Chief."  Jim smiled, confused by his own emotional impulses.  He was unsure how to categorize what he was feeling.  Concern?  Certainly. Pride?  Affection?  He settled on respect.  For a civilian, Sandburg had shown more courage and endurance than he had a right to expect. That was safe territory, at least for the moment.  "In spite of everything, you're on your own two feet and facing the world. That's as much as anyone could expect."

 Blair reached toward his sentinel, and did a double take. He held his hands out before him. He looked up at the Ellison brothers, and back at his hands. Steady and still. In fact, the wracking tremors and nausea had vanished. "I don't understand," he said in a halting voice. "I had all the typical symptoms of severance.  After Alicia, I was ill for months.  This simply isn't possible. Jim?" 

 Jim shrugged, looking for all the world like a child caught in the act.  "You're asking me?"

 Steven chuckled.  "Calm down, Jimmy - I mean, Jim.  Guide Sandburg, I suspect nothing's amiss that a wardrobe fitting and a good night's sleep in your own home won't cure.  Severance symptoms are related to stress, are they not?"

 "Uh - yes, in large part," Blair managed to stammer in response.  "Each successive incident should be more severe, according to common practice."

 Steven's gaze was sympathetic.  "I'm sorry to say, my brother and I both knew your former sentinel. I assure you, severing from a crazy like Alicia, with the Ventriss clan hounding your every step, isn't a realistic yardstick for your current experience.  Besides, you and my brother are simply good for each other. Even my untrained eye can see that." Steven found it mildly amusing that both sentinel and guide both sighed in relief at that suggestion. "I'm sure the medics aren't finished with either one of you, but let's take this as a good sign."

 Blair stepped forward to lean against his sentinel. "All I could think about was getting home, but I - Jim - I can't -"

 The younger man's distress was obvious. Embarrassment flushed his pale cheeks. "What, Chief?" Jim asked quietly

 Blair looked slightly panicked.  "My residence.  I can't take either of you to my - I just can't.  It's not - I don't have the standard amenities, or… I can't imagine what would you think."

 Their awkward exchange was interrupted by a new presence. The senior medic dipped his head, acknowledging the intrusion on what was clearly a very private interchange.  "Guide Sandburg, our Security Services escort has arrived.  For your mother's sake, we really should not delay our departure."  

 "Of course," Blair said, and then with a wide-eyed glance at Jim, his jaw dropped open.  He shouldn't be separated from his sentinel, for both their sakes, but Naomi's needs were pressing.  "But - uh - I should - I mean, I can't..."

 Jim looked equally torn.  Let Sandburg leave, and return to being whipsawed by his senses? Stay together or be separated for the sake of his guide's critically ill mother?  The choice was impossible.

 Steven read the situation and stepped in to the rescue. "This is a difficult moment, as I'm sure you can appreciate, Senior Medic.  Perhaps you could update Guide Sandburg on his mother's condition."

 The medic looked warily at Jim.  Such information should be delivered in private, but to separate a sentinel and guide was an imprudent move under any circumstances. His eyes finally flicked toward Blair, and medical protocol trumped social sensibilities.  He shook his head. "With no disrespect to Sentinel Ellison, a private setting is required, Guide Sandburg.  It seems best your mother's medical situation be treated with all possible confidentiality."

 Blair looked up at Jim, and beyond him to Steven Ellison. One his sentinel, the other an unknown but very much his rescuer.  If he couldn't trust these two men, there was no hope.  "These are unusual circumstances.  Please proceed," he said, hoping for a firm, confident voice. "You have my permission."

 The medic gave an apprehensive shrug, but accepted the compromise.  "As you wish. Your mother was severely injured in the initial accident with Lady Ventriss.  Our examination indicates her caregivers, and I use the term loosely, completed the barest minimum of restorative treatment, and have since kept her in medication-induced suspension.  If the timeline you gave us is correct, we're dangerously close to losing the opportunity for restoration at all.  Her skeletal injuries are painful, but the situation with her kidneys and liver are particularly grave."

 Blair swayed on his feet, as if such dire news sapped his last reserves.  "Am I going to lose her?" he whispered.

 "I sincerely hope not.  The Security Services medical safe house is fully equipped, and we intend to move aggressively.  As soon as we arrive, we'll initiate a full diagnostic scan and begin preliminary restoration immediately.  That's her best chance.  She understands the risks and has agreed to the initial procedures.  You, as her direct heir, of course have the right to object or concur."

 "Blair, go," Jim said with clear urgency. "Stay with her until the procedures begin."  He turned his attention to the medic.  "Am I correct in assuming that she will be in medisleep once the diagnostic scans begin?"

 "That would be my recommendation, considering the difficulty of the procedures and our time constraints.  I realize Guide Sandburg and his mother have endured a long period of separation."  He shook his head gravely.  "I just don't think we can avoid any delay."

 "No, we should start right away," Blair said, his voice now a bit shaky.  "I understand, and so will she."

 The medic seemed relieved.  At least the sentinel was giving clear consent to the separation. "I feel that's the best decision, Guide Sandburg.  I'm sure your presence will make the difficulties of transport more bearable."

 Blair clearly wished to go, but wavered. "My sentinel -"

 "Can wait a few hours longer," Jim said firmly. "We'll both have medical attention available if we need it."  Blair looked stricken.  Jim shoved away his misgivings and did his best to reassure him.  "I'll come to the safe house after treatment begins. We won't be separated for long. Go on.  I need you, but she needs you more." He motioned for Blair to go. After a moment's hesitation, he did.

 The senior medic waited until Blair was absorbed at his mother's side.  He handed a data pod to Jim. "S.S.I. Ellison, I've recorded my medical findings, with certification of Neglect with Intent to Harm. Combined with the medical archive Steven Ellison provided, in my opinion, you have a very actionable case. The care orders all came from Lord Norman Ventriss or his known surrogates."

 "That bastard," Steven muttered. "I'm no medic, but did I read the records correctly?  That they purposely brought her out of medisleep and aggravated her injuries, presumably for the purpose of blackmail?"

 The medic nodded, making no effort to conceal his revulsion. "That is what Naomi Sandburg reports.  You must understand, gentleman.  Out of medisleep and without real treatment, the pain from her internal injuries would be excruciating. They would forward a vid to her son to encourage his full compliance.  Naomi Sandburg's verbal descriptions are quite horrifying. I have notated my opinion that her treatment qualifies legally as torture, and that Lord Ventriss should be charged accordingly.  I sincerely hope you proceed.  I will make myself available for a full deposition."

 The Ellison brothers stepped back to allow the Sandburgs and the medical entourage to depart.  The moment the room was empty, Jim's face darkened to pure rage. "I should kill Ventriss and everyone involved.  Forget presenting a case to Provincial Justice.  I'm House Ellison.  I'll invoke my right to ancient justice and deal with it.  Hang him from a tree and flay him with a dull blade."

 "No, you won't," Steven said firmly. "Potentially satisfying, but I have a better idea.  Come on.  We're going to see Banks."

 &&&&&

 Carolyn Plummer sat in a chair, gazing at her courtyard, contemplating the depth and breadth of the disaster which had befallen her.  Nessitt had returned empty handed.  On the verge of closing the deal, the guide escaped, apparently to be whisked back into Cascade Province by some unknown party.  He extended no hope of tracing Sandburg any further.

 Her plan had collapsed.  She'd been so certain of success.  After seeing Lord William and giving Nessitt his final instructions, she'd retired to her quarters to change, anticipating the fulfillment of her plans.  She'd chosen so carefully, aiming to accentuate the feminine while looking the part of a soon-to-ascend Head of House.  She absently ran her hand along the sleeve of her tunic, the costly gray silk perfectly tailored to her slim shoulders.  The heeled leather boots which hugged her calves, worth an average citizen's monthly credit draw. The black pearls inherited from her mother.  Her consort's ring, the central emerald encircled with crest elements of House Plummer and House Ellison. She had rehearsed the moment when she would present Sandburg to a grateful James, how she would stand at the foot of the grand staircase of the Ellison home, both Ellison father and son ready to do her bidding.

 And now?  She would have to go to Lord William, and plead his forbearance, even though it was distinctly possible that he was the one who had double crossed her. Why hadn't she thought through her petition to Lord William more carefully?  She'd gone bursting in to the Ellison estate in the middle of the night, ignoring protocols and courtesies.  The old fox had read her like a vid file. 

 She hadn't even considered that possibility until the damage was done.  It was totally within Lord William's character to exploit the information she'd brought without regard to their agreement.  How could she have been so stupid?  For all she knew, the guide was already ensconced somewhere on the Ellison estate.

 And the credits!  Some of the credits had already been transferred.  All of her own credits she had risked had yielded nothing, and she'd clearly revealed her vulnerability to Lord William.  Even with access to the secret accounts, House Plummer, and her own future, were in even greater jeopardy.

 Lord William was the key.  How could she possibly convince the old man to support her now?  How many of the secret funds could she safely subvert to retain control?  She needed to reach out for help, but if her brothers, particularly Philip, ever got wind of this? Gerald was overconfident, but Philip would not hesitate.  Ever the second son, this would be the opening he'd waited for his entire life. He'd move with ruthless efficiency.

 A lone tear snaked down her face.  James would learn of her role eventually, if he didn't know already.  She'd been so certain this would restore her to the position of Consort Ellison, but James would never forgive this.  In fact, James could well turn on her actively instead of simply ignoring her presence.

 James, if he chose, could destroy her.

 &&&&&

 Major Incident was a hive of activity. Prosecutor Beverly Sanchez was officially sealing detention warrants for the arrest of Lord-elect Bradley Ventriss and his associates on multiple counts of assault, primarily based on direct evidence from Megan Connor.  Arrest teams were forming.  There appeared to be an ongoing argument as to whether the initial evidence was sufficient to move against Chancellor Edwards.

 Steven was right on Jim's heels as they entered the packed room, which shared a lot of similarities with the commercial suites he managed in the busy Ellison financial empire.  Suddenly, Jim just melted away.  He'd gone from a pace ahead to backed up against the wall, looking decidedly pale. Steven blinked in surprise, and then it dawned on him - a noisy, emotionally intense room, and they'd just left Jim's guide behind.

 Steven stepped in front of his brother, hopefully blocking him from the others and providing him a moment to regroup. "Captain Banks, please excuse the interruption.  You may wish to add to your contemplated legal actions."  Steven balanced his copy of  the data pod of evidence in his hand, painfully aware that his statement had silenced the room.  This wasn't the time to undermine Jim's standing with his commander.  He glanced over his shoulder, indicating Jim's general direction. "That is, if S.S.I Ellison will allow me?"

 Jim gave the barest of nods.  Banks seemed a bit taken aback, but one look at Jim and he seemed willing to play along.  Prosecutor Sanchez gave Steven a long, challenging look.  "And you would be?"

 Steven looked down at his definitely informal dress, and shrugged.  "My apologies, Prosecutor Sanchez.  We have actually met, although I don't look the part at the moment.  Seneschal Steven Ellison, House Ellison.  I believe we were introduced at the Governor's most recent Citizen's Day reception."

 Sanchez did a double-take, looking from one brother to the other and back again.   She recovered with an admirable display of political balance, and covered by extending customary courtesy to the younger Ellison.  Her expression, however, indicated that she was far from pleased. As soon as courtesy was complete, she whirled on Banks.  "Captain Banks," she said sharply.  "Perhaps you'd like to explain how a ranking official from the aristocracy is involved in this investigation.  Why wasn't I apprised of this?"

 Steven inwardly cringed.  He hadn't intended to place the Major Incident unit in a difficult position.  Banks, however, seemed unruffled.  "Seneschal Ellison assisted in the recovery of Citizen Naomi Sandburg from the Council of Lords rehabilitation facility," Banks explained. 

 "Sandburg, as in Blair Sandburg?" Prosecutor Sanchez asked.  "Directly relating to this case?"

 "I would say so.  Naomi Sandburg is Blair - excuse me - Guide Sandburg's mother," Banks said.  "And yes, this new information has direct bearing on the Ventriss warrants."

 Sanchez made no effort to hide her displeasure. "Captain, you know this is a delicate case!  I can't afford any irregularities."  She glared at the Ellison brothers.  "You did not list Seneschal Ellison as a resource for the investigation.   At a minimum, I can't certify any evidence which he has brought to light."

 Jim rallied enough to argue.  Steven restrained his brother with an outstretched hand. This was his sort of argument. He had plenty of practice, and Jim didn't need to exert the energy.  "If you examine the Provincial statute closely, Prosecutor, I believe you'll find that a resource registration is not required.  Due to Lord William Ellison's recent service as Presiding Officer of the Council of Lords, my continuing duties include supervision of the rehabilitation facility.  In that capacity, I have full access to the medical facilities and their records. It is my right as Seneschal to appeal directly to Provincial authorities if I am aware of a violation by a member or official of the Houses.  I brought this evidence forward without being solicited by any of the Major Incident personnel."

 Sanchez looked suspiciously at the others waiting expectantly.  "And the Major Incident logs would confirm this?"

 "They would not," Steven said smoothly. "I chose to go directly to S.S.I. James Ellison, due to the dire nature of the circumstances. As you know, this is allowed under our Provincial charter.  The exchange of information within the direct lineage of a registered aristocratic house is protected by statute and custom."

 Sanchez stared in Jim's direction, over Steven's shoulder as it were.  "I was under the impression that S.S.I. Ellison had renounced his status," Sanchez said warily.

 Steven smiled, comfortable with this form of process debate. "My brother's personal choice to refrain from the privilege due him does not alter his status, Prosecutor Sanchez. An Ellison of the blood he was born, and an Ellison of the blood he remains.  As I'm sure you appreciate, our family connection empowers us to circumvent some of the regulations, as long as the information was brought forward by House Ellison voluntarily."  He gave Jim a slightly amused, sideways glance.  "In my official capacity, of course."

 "You so certify?" Sanchez asked.

 "I do.  However, I prefer to allow my brother to summarize the evidence House Ellison brings forward.  This is his area of expertise."  He glanced back at Jim, who seemed to have recovered his composure now that the chaos had quieted a bit.

 Steven relaxed, happy to prove he was no longer the spoiled teenager of his sibling's memory.  Jim gave his brother a look that said "nice job" and picked up the narrative. "We have incontrovertible medical evidence against Lord Norman Ventriss substantiating Neglect with Intent to Harm.  We also have verbal and certified statements from the medical professionals, as well as Naomi Sandburg and Blair Sandburg that the treatment directed by Lord Ventriss extended to Attempted Murder by Torture." He motioned to the data pod in his brother's hand.  "Specialist Rhonda Kennedy is logging and duplicating our transmitted data as we speak."

 "What?" Sanchez practically shouted. "You can't be serious. Do you think this is some kind of a joke, Ellison?"

 Jim folded his arms, scowling and clearly offended by the accusation.  "No. Considering that Naomi Sandburg has been held against her will for years and willfully denied appropriate care for critical injuries, I think that's understating it." 

 Rhonda appeared at the door.  "Excuse me, Captain Banks. The evidence vid is ready to screen."  She glanced warily at Sanchez and added, "S.S.I. Ellison assured me you would approve of the interruption."

 Banks frowned.  He didn't like the idea of not having a preliminary look privately. The Ellison brothers must be confident of their evidence to be so abrupt.  "Proceed, Specialist Kennedy." 

 The room fell silent. The primary vid viewer covering one wall of the Major Incident conference room hummed to life. The evidence presentation ran an agonizing twenty-five minutes, accompanied by gasps of shock and an occasional muttered epithet.  The evidence concluded with a vid that had just been imprinted within the last twelve hours, apparently as Lord Norman Ventriss prepared for the recovery of Blair and extracting positive testimony on his son's behalf.  When an attendant manipulated Naomi Sandburg's still-broken leg, the recording of her anguish echoed in the small chamber. 

 "Enough," Sanchez cried. "Shut it off!" Cascade's assistant prosecutor struggled to speak.  "It's heinous. I confirm the finding of Neglect and most certainly, the finding of Torture."  Clearly shaken, it took physical effort for her to force herself from a chair and give the formal order.  "Captain Banks, Captain Taggert, I don't care if he is Head of House.  Bring that son of a bitch Norman Ventriss in.  Bring his worthless offspring as well.  With all due haste."

 &&&&&

 The trip across Cascade was swift and uneventful. Blair knelt beside Naomi and held her hand in his palm, afraid to close his grasp.  She seemed so fragile.  He spoke in the lowest whisper, swaying with the movement of the transport. Occasionally a tear would sneak down her nearly translucent cheek, but speech seemed more than she could manage.

 Rather than the typical exterior dock, the safe house was equipped with a interior bay.  Blair barely noticed as the structure swallowed the transport vessel in seconds. Despite their best efforts, transferring Naomi Sandburg to the diagnostic area of the safe house was the worst part of the trip.   Blair watched helplessly as his mother cried out and the lead medic shook his head over the readings on his monitor. 

 Her pain was almost unbearable, but she asked for a few moments alone with Blair before the testing began.  After a moment's hesitation, the  medical personnel slipped from the room.  Their willingness seemed to Blair an ominous sign. The fear that he might be speaking to his mother for the last time felt like a vise on his throat.

 "Mom, you don't need to do this," Blair said, holding her hand again.  He so wanted to hold her, comfort her, but it was obvious every touch or move was painful. "Let them take care of you. You'll get better, and then we'll talk as long as you like."

 "Oh, sweetie.  Hush."  Naomi brushed a hand across Blair's tear-stained cheek.  "You've suffered so.  It was all my fault.  You tried to warn me about Norman Ventriss.  Lady Elizabeth was such a sweet soul, and I didn't want to listen.  I was so blind."

 "Mom, that's all in the past. None of it matters."

 "Not when the past…scars the present." Naomi's voice wavered, but she struggled on.  "What Alicia did to you - they'd taunt me with that when I was out of medisleep. All your plans in ruins. It's unforgivable. You must hate me so."

 "No.  Never."  Blair squeezed her hand gently.  "We don't need to talk about this right now.  You just have to get better."

 Naomi rested her head back and tried to smile. "My dear, sweet boy. I'll try, but I want you to go to your sentinel."

 "Mom, I can't leave -"

 "Blair.  Even seeing you with him for just a few minutes, I know how wrong I was. You're meant to be a guide, his guide.   You've waited so long. Is - is he a good man?"

 Blair choked on his tears and nodded. _Yes, his sentinel was the best of men._

 "Then do this for me, Blair.  Take this from your mother, as my gift to you."

 Blair couldn't find his voice.  Soundlessly, he mouthed the word, "No."

 "Promise," Naomi demanded, gasping painfully. "Promise me this one last thing."

 The medics were back, hovering nervously.   Blair clenched his teeth against the tears. He could only nod his assent as his hand slipped from hers, and Naomi was whisked away.

 &&&&&

 The solo-transport aeropod rose slowly from the Citizen transport lane.  If someone noted the oddity of a pod with Security Services markings out of the high speed corridors it was entitled to, they weren't likely to report it.  Shielded from the safe house sensor array by intervening buildings, the pod spun on its axis and moved west, opposite the route of approach. Best to avoid the risk of a high speed departure.  No point in attracting the attention of the personnel on safe house watch.

 He was confident the transport crew had missed his quiet pursuit.  It was easier to evade detection when the end destination wasn't a complete mystery. Cascade had only four fully-equipped medical safe house units.  He'd been able to drop low and slow as soon as a general direction away from Headquarters was apparent.  Only someone very smart, or very paranoid, might have noticed.

 Besides, the Patriot Brigade didn't much care how their informants got information, just as long as their credits got what they wanted.  Just to be safe, he'd transfer to another pod at the nearest substation and keep this one programmed for a routine surveillance flight.  On the outside chance that he'd been spotted approaching the safe house, the switch would throw the pursuit off. 

 Time consuming, but well worth the precaution. The credits the Patriot Brigade passed his way were nice, but avoiding detection was even nicer. With Kincaid sitting in a detention cell, time wasn't the most critical factor.  The Brigade would get the safe house location on his timetable and be grateful for it.  How they used that information, and what they did about the occupants, including S.S.I. Ellison, wasn't his concern.

 &&&&&

 Simon Banks planted himself firmly in the doorway. "Ellison, you aren't going anywhere near the Ventriss estate, and that's final."

 "You have absolutely no reason to exclude me from the detention team," Jim said defiantly. 

 "Oh, really?" Banks said sarcastically. "Let me think. How about because you're likely to kill him on sight for starters?  And don't even think about pulling another little solo mission out of your bag of tricks."

 Jim bristled.  "Captain, are you implying that I can't do my job?"

 Joel Taggert crowded in.  "Simon, get moving.  I'll handle this." 

 Banks threw up his hands.  "He's all yours.  Connor!  Brown! Vasquez!" Banks strode out, the others scampering in his wake, clearly glad to escape the confrontation.

 Steven reached out hesitantly and nudged his brother's elbow.  "Jim, maybe they're right."

 Jim started to open his mouth, clearly ready to rake his brother over the coals along with everyone else in the vicinity, when Taggert quietly said, "Enough."

 Something about his tone of voice pulled Jim up short.

 "Ellison, a day ago you were in a medical suite. You're still on medical caution. I could easily make the case that your relationship to Blair crosses the threshold for personal involvement. Do you want to taint the evidence? Give the Ventriss Advocates an easy means of getting him off again?  And let's not even consider that Blair Sandburg's in no shape to accompany you on the job right now.  Have you forgotten that his presence is required now that you're a recognized sentinel? Frankly, if you care about him, you might give a thought to his physical and emotional state." Taggert waited for that list to process.

 Jim started to protest, then sighed heavily. "You may have a point," he said grudgingly.

 "Several, in case you weren't counting."

 "Fine.  I'll go to the safe house, but don't leave me wondering what is going on."

 "Good choice," Taggert said, and his tone made it clear the decision shouldn't have been a tough one.

 "Actually, Jim, I need you for a few minutes." Guide Thomas Cameron was waiting quietly along with his assigned sentinel, Todd Diwa.  "Forgot all about us, didn't you?"

 Jim looked stricken.  "Guys, I apologize.  You came to the rescue, and then I -"

 "You have a case, and this is about your guide. We get that," Diwa said. "Unfortunately, how you feel doesn't change the reality.  Jim, this is a sentinel thing. You're running on adrenaline, but your body and mind are still readjusting.  You can't will your way through suddenly becoming a sentinel.  Go with Thomas, will you?"  He looked Jim up and down with a knowing eye.  "Straight up, I'm sure you could take me, but if I have to force the issue, I'll play dirty."  His expression changed to knowing amusement.  "You're not quite ready to play sentinel to sentinel. There are a few training issues we haven't covered just yet."

 "Use my office," Taggert said. He folded his arms across his chest, silently making it clear that he would make it an order if necessary.

 The three men, Steven Ellison, Taggert and Diwa, watched the sentinel and temporary guide retreat behind closed doors. "Well done, Sentinel Diwa," Taggert said.  "We may have to get you transferred up here, just to help out."

 Diwa grinned.  "It would be my pleasure, Captain.  Not everyone is asked to join the buccaneers of Major Incident."

 "Buccaneers, eh?  I can't argue with the characterization.  I think you'd fit right in, son," Taggert said, giving Diwa a slap on the back.  He excused himself to check on the other detention teams. 

 Steven looked expectantly at Diwa. "Sentinel, I wonder if you could assist me in a little project?"

 "What exactly do you have in mind?" Diwa asked, his expression curious and a bit mischievous.

 "A little basic information, followed by some procurement."  Steven said with a grin.  Nothing was more fun than orchestrating a coup from behind the scenes.  He snapped open a high-grade comm unit with an attached viewer. "Jim doesn't know it yet, but we'll be going on a little mission.  Nothing too strenuous, so I'm sure you'll approve."

 "And?" Diwa asked, clearly accepting his role as a coconspirator.

 "We'll start with some uniform clothing for a formal visitation, and go from there."

 &&&&&

 Lord Norman Ventriss glared at his House Seneschal. Gresham Knowleton was normally the picture of efficiency, but lately the man had nothing but bad news. "How can you be sure Security Services is involved?  Or Major Incident specifically?  Is this some desperate stretch to excuse your failure to snatch Sandburg when you had the chance?"  Ventriss brushed a few crumbs of toast off his cashmere robe, as disgusted with the untidy bread as he was with his seneschal.

 Ventriss Seneschal Knowleton stiffened, but ignored the insult to his competence.  "I started checking the moment I saw that flyer cross the Boundary and evade the sensors. Very few individuals or entities could pull that off, Lord Ventriss.  The list is painfully short.  It screams official interest."

 "Which is total nonsense.  I can't imagine why Blair Sandburg would be of interest to Security Services," Lord Norman Vintriss said with a sniff. "The man's a nobody. We've practically erased him from society.  He hasn't held an officially sanctioned job for years.   He doesn't even have a Citizen Rating.  Who could possibly care about him at this point?"

 "Lord Ventriss, there are other ways of coming to the attention of Security Services than Citizen Registration."

 "Well, it doesn't matter," Ventriss said with a careless wave.  "I don't care who else is looking, he can't have disappeared from the face of the planet, much less Cascade Province.  Find him, and remind him that Naomi won't fare well if he doesn't present himself at once.  Whatever game Blair Sandburg is trying to play, that will bring him around in a hurry. For starters, he's going to confess to tampering with Bradley's final projects."  He stared out the conservatory windows.  "I suppose we'll need to temporarily distract Rainier with something in the meantime so they don't move against Bradley. Doesn't Edwards have any ideas?"

 Knowleton stifled a sigh of exasperation. "Lord Ventriss, I understand your concern for your son, but we have more pressing issues. The situation is becoming dangerous, and may threaten House Ventriss as a whole.  I was just notified that Naomi Sandburg has been removed from the Rehabilitation Center."

 "What!" Lord Ventriss shouted, trying to stand, but finding himself trapped under the breakfast tray. "Under whose authority?"

 "I don't have many details, but I must advise you, I consider this is very grave," Knowleton said, consulting his handviewer. "Her personal attendants just sounded the alarm over our private channel, but apparently they were taken into custody shortly after contact.  If the initial dispatch from the center is accurate, Seneschal Ellison apparently circumvented the normal procedures and assisted a team from Security Services in the removal."

 "Steven Ellison!  That young pup!  He had no right!" Lord Ventriss spat indignantly. 

 "Actually, Lord Ventriss, he does. For the remainder of the year, Seneschal Ellison is still an authorized supervisor for the facility. It's part of the transition protocol. You recall he pressed us for explanations about eighteen months ago.  Something must have precipitated more interest on his part."

 Lord Norman stared at his seneschal in disbelief. "Why would Steven Ellison be assisting the Security Services?  And there's absolutely no connection between Sandburg and House Ellison. Besides, Lord William is a such a stickler about aristocratic privilege and separation between the Houses and the citizen authorities.  He'd never tolerate such a liaison."

 "I can think of no obvious reason." Knowleton paused. He'd heard rumors that predated his employment with House Ventriss.  "Lord Ventriss, isn't the wayward Ellison son attached to Security Services in some capacity?"

 "By the ancestors."  Lord Norman turned pale.  "The elder son?  He joined the military.  No, wait. You're right.  I think he did end up with Security Services. But the boy and Lord William have been estranged for years.  He even relinquished his designation as First Heir to House Ellison."

 "Perhaps there's been some sort of reconciliation, and he's the connection between Security Services and Steven Ellison," Knowleton observed. "Lord Ventriss, even the possibility of a direct connection - "

 "But why?" Lord Norman asked. "Who cares about a guide except a sentinel?  I knew James as a child and a young man, and he was no sentinel.  What possible interest would he have in a disgraced guide?"

 Knowleton could hardly contain his agitation. There was too much at stake to take chances.  "I think we should assume the worst, Lord Ventriss.  Under the circumstances, it is highly likely there is a connecting line from Steven Ellison to his brother, and from there to Security Services.  Or perhaps the contact flowed the other direction.  Your son's recent difficulties may have brought something to the attention of Security Services.  It's no secret the investigators were frustrated in their attempts to prosecute your son last year."

 "That bitch Edwards.  This has got to be her fault."  Ventriss tossed the last few bites of toast onto the plate in disgust.  "If she'd been doing her job, this fiasco with Bradley would have been nipped in the bud. We pay her generously, and I expect results. I won't tolerate this level of incompetence."

 Graham Knowleton was barely able to control his frustration. Lord Norman's fixation with his son was a plague on his existence.  "With respect, Lord Ventriss, the situation at Rainier must be a secondary focus. If known to the Citizen authorities, the details of Naomi's stay at the Center would be dangerously incriminating for you personally."

 Lord Normal waved off his Seneschal's caution. "Don't be ridiculous. Uncomfortable, perhaps, but no Law and Justice Prosecutor would dare move against me personally. Their political careers would be over. I'm Head of House. They wouldn't dare touch me."

 Knowleton clenched his fists behind his back. Most aristos suffered from some level of insularity, but Ventriss was exceptional in his disregard for Provincial authority.  Even a Head of House might be denied a free pass if the transgressions were egregious enough. "Lord, I would counsel you differently.  With our own concerns with your son, perhaps I have not apprised you sufficiently. In the last few days, a Head of House was accused and detained for treason.  I've received copies of some of the evidence from our inside sources. I assure you, the prosecution against Lord Plummer will be successful.  Provincial Security Director Evans has been demoted, despite strong ties to the Houses."

 "Evans?" Ventriss said, finally disentangling himself from the breakfast tray and struggling to his feet. "They moved against David Evans?"

  _So now I finally have your attention, you pompous fool._ "In the current climate, the Provincial authorities may be sufficiently emboldened.  I strongly recommend you leave the estate until the situation clarifies itself.  Perhaps the mountain retreat, or out of Cascade Province completely."

 "Out of the question," Ventriss snapped. "How could you even suggest such a thing?  Evans is one thing, House Ventriss another.  I'm sure you exaggerate."  He activated the summons to his personal attendants.  "I'll dress and meet you in my study in ten minutes. We can take some precautions, but leaving the Province is out of the question."  He tossed his robe on a nearby chair and took a last bite of the abandoned toast.  "I need to deal with Edwards and Rainier University directly.  I've spent a great deal of time and effort engineering my son's placement.  The boy's a disappointment to me, but we should be able to do something with him."

 Knowleton kept his face blank.  No point in sharing his personal opinion that Lord-Elect Bradley would bring House Ventriss down around his father's ears before all was done. "At a minimum, we'll need another strategy if Blair Sandburg is out of our reach, Lord Ventriss. We can't afford to be put on the defensive."

 "Well, it's your job to think of something!" Ventriss shouted, choking on the last bite.  His face nearly matched the plum jam remaining on the breakfast service. "My son will not be denied his certification, or have his pairing put in jeopardy."

 Knowleton's com unit emitted a shrill whine, followed by a nearly unintelligible string of coded phrases and numbers. Without preamble, Knowleton took Lord Ventriss by the elbow and propelled him into the main corridor. "Security personnel have just breached the main gate.  They have detention orders.  You can't be here when they arrive!"

 Norman Ventriss, twelfth Lord of House Ventriss, began to run.

 &&&&&

 Guide Cameron finally emerged from Taggert's office with Jim in tow.  Taggert, Diwa and Steven looked up expectantly.  Jim looked downright rebellious.

 "His readings are horrible," Cameron said. "Stress hormones are way too high, and his coping strategies are shaky to nonexistent."

 "You're speaking to the ignorant, Guide Cameron," Taggert said.  "Give me an actionable translation."

 "Right now, we could drop a pin and he'd spike. He just won't admit it." Cameron smiled, cheerfully dismissing Jim's stormy countenance.  "I'd say send him home to rest, but based on previous record, he'd rest only if you put him in restraints.  I understand he has a reputation of amending orders - creatively."

 "I'd laugh if that wasn't so accurate," Taggert said wryly.  "Give it to me straight, Jim.  Should I just lock you up and call for a medic to sit on you full time?"

 Jim snorted his disgust, clearly gearing up for an argument.

 "May I make a suggestion?  That is if I'm not going to get my head ripped off." Steven stood slightly to Jim's left, waiting expectantly.

 Jim made a visible effort to calm down. "Sorry, Steven. You didn't deserve that fit of temper."

 Steven gave his brother a sympathetic shrug. "Captain Taggert, would it be possible to have your support staff prepare a copy of the Naomi Sandburg evidence?"

 Taggert looked puzzled.  "I suppose, since you supplied the majority of it, there's no reason I shouldn't, but it's irregular.  Any particular reason?"

 Steven's tone was downright conspiratorial. "We don't speak of it publicly, but there is a system of censure within the Houses.  Being pursued by Provincial Law and Justice is one thing. Censure by your peers, with the chance of losing the title of your House for all time?  Not to mention that censure would separate Lord Norman from all those lovely credit accounts.  Once the funds are held up, I can't see his minions soldiering on out of loyalty. That would be a nice complement to your activities, wouldn't it?"  Steven sealed the question with a tiny, predatory smile. "My brother is the one with military experience, but I understand a two-pronged attack is considered good tactics."

 In an eerie moment, Taggert realized Steven reminded him of S.S.I. Ellison when he was closing in on a suspect. "I see your point, Seneschal. Sounds like a worthy project." He tilted his chin in Jim's direction. "I assume you could use him.  Can you promise me you'll keep him moderately under wraps? Simon will kill me if he winds up on full medical leave."

 "Jim?" Steven asked, chuckling. "Do you consent to protective custody with your younger brother?"

 "Oh, all right," Jim snapped. "Don't think I'm giving in. Primarily I want to get to Sandburg as soon as possible."  He glared at Taggert.  "And somebody better keep me informed what's happening with Ventriss.  Blair and his mother are at risk as long as that man's still roaming around, not to mention his son."

 "Fair enough," Taggert said, turning to give a formal acceptance to Steven.  "Seneschal Ellison, I'll have an additional data pod prepared and send you on your way.  Your assistance is most welcome."  He started out of the room, but as he reached the doorway he turned back. "Jim?  That 'keep me informed' thing?  It works both ways, gentlemen.  You may both consider that a direct order."

 &&&&&

 Blair remained outside the diagnostic suite, standing silent vigil as his fragile mother slipped back into medisleep. The grave faces of the medics told him more than they intended.  After all the agony, all the torment, he was still helpless in the maelstrom of events set in motion by others.

 Blair listened to every murmured order, the soft hum of the medical instruments.  They probably wouldn't know anything for hours.  His mother - bright, impulsive, charming Naomi - now such a pale whisper of her true self.  She'd loved fully, advocated passionately, trusted completely, only to be betrayed by an ethos she'd never embraced.  Damn Ventriss. Damn the Houses. Damn the society they'd founded and still controlled.

 With a final nod from the two attending medics, the doors to the treatment suite slid closed.  Apparently the next procedures weren't suitable for untrained eyes. Blair could do nothing now but wait. He braced himself with one arm, leaning heavily against the wall.  Life without Naomi.  How would he bear it?

 "Guide Sandburg?"

 Blair startled at the unknown voice. He turned by reflex rather than intent.

 "My apologies, Guide Sandburg. Security Officer Second Tier Daryl Banks.  I'll be part of your security detail.  Besides the perimeter security detail, there are other staff en route, but I'm to orient you until they arrive."

 "Yes.  I - weren't you - didn't I meet you earlier?"  Blair stared stupidly at the tall young man.  "Wait a minute.  Banks? Captain Banks' son, yes?"

 "One and the same.  And if I may speak frankly, my dad will skewer me if you don't look in better shape when he shows up than you do now.  If you'll follow me?"

 "Right."  Blair trailed behind Daryl, looking around the safe house he'd previously ignored.  Besides the medical facilities, the layout was extensive.  It was at least three or four times as large as his own quarters. Blair didn't even know where to start.

 Daryl seemed to understand his confusion. "It's large because there will be security details here round the clock.  They have quarters, and there are common areas, plus full food prep and an administrative/com areas.  At some point Provincial Justice will speak with you, and they have a separate area completely."

 Blair nodded dumbly.  He couldn't think of a thing to say.

 "I've scouted around.  I suggest you take the suite over there for your personal quarters. Take your time in the grooming chamber. My father's admin is already sending over some appropriate clothing, so you'll have fresh apparel to utilize."

 "Clothing?  They're sending me clothing?"  Blair knew he sounded panicky, but he had financial realities to consider. Spending credits on new clothing was an expense he didn't need.

 "Relax, Guide Sandburg.  You're attached to Security Services now, not to mention being under Provincial Judicial Protection.   I think you'll find Security Services cares quite thoroughly for its own."

 A feeble "Oh," was all Blair could manage. He was well aware how he looked at this point.  He'd washed - with Steven Ellison's awkward help - but in his mismatched clothing he looked seriously bedraggled. Hardly someone to take seriously. Maybe clothing was a good idea after all.  Jim came from a fine family. What if he finally noticed his newly-declared guide was far from his social equal?  He could at least try to appear acceptable. 

 Daryl Banks smiled encouragingly.  "Food delivery is due any moment.  I'll use the time to scare us up a meal.  I don't know about you, but I could eat."

 With an absentminded nod, Blair went off to explore, trying not to dwell obsessively on the medical procedures taking place a few rooms over.  The safe house was indeed set up for long term residency.  The suite Daryl Banks had recommended was far above citizen standard. Although the bed nearly claimed him at first sight, Blair stumbled on into a grooming chamber, lined with smooth green and white tiles.  For a moment he could only stand and stare.  A free-running shower.  A soaking tub. A pile of thick, fluffy drying sheets that would put his sleeping blankets, much less his threadbare drying cloths, to shame.  A robe. Grooming tools and personal products. He examined some of the labels. How could anyone have possibly had the time to provide sentinel-friendly shampoo and body wash?

 He stepped toward the walk-in shower, which sprang to life as he approached.  Blair shook his head in disbelief as he realized it was scan-controlled, with voice command. The contrast with his own washing facilities - a cast-off plasto tub that he filled with water warmed in a battered soup pot - nearly brought him to tears.  He felt guilty about dropping his miserable garments on the polished floor, but did so anyway.

 He'd just plunged into the flood when Daryl's voice surprised him again.  "Guide Sandburg?" he called from the doorway.  "No water rationing, understand?"

 "Got it," Blair replied, grinning in spite of himself.  He let the pulsing stream pour over his upturned face, lost in a less complicated world that only included simple concepts like warm and clean - and safe.

 Finally - safe.

 &&&&&

 Simon Banks keyed his com link to the detention teams. "All right, folks. Don't stop for courtesies, and be ready for anything."

After the experience with Connal Plummer, Major Incident wasn't about to present themselves at the formal entrance to the Ventriss estate and ask to be escorted in.

The multiple-transport team came in low and fast. As they whipped past the estate's security station, the surveillance specialist turned to Banks. "They've sounded a warning, Captain."

 Banks answered with a nod.  "Commence hologram tracking."  He shifted to watch as the specialist worked her magic. A full-featured surveillance holo never failed to fascinate him.  Their previous surveillance tagging paid instant benefits.  The location of Lord Ventriss, the House Seneschal and Bradley Ventriss sprang to life in ominous yellow against the complicated backdrop of the estate and its inhabitants.  As with the Plummer manor, the old building was an ornate rabbit warren of rooms and passages. The plan was to use every advantage to swoop in and execute their warrants quickly.  They could isolate and question the staff later. At least a few of the House Ventriss employees would be willing to share with his investigators.

 "They're going to run, aren't they, Captain?"

 Banks tore his eyes away from the holo. The Seneschal and Lord Ventriss markers were moving rapidly, descending from one of the upper floors. "Looks that way, doesn't it, H?"

 Henri's dark eyes hardened.  "Damn.  Plummer all over again.  I'm betting they have an exit or a safe room out of the lower floors."

 "Doesn't show up on the holo," Banks commented mildly. Sometimes it was better to let your people speak freely, even when they gave information you already had, or guessed.

 Brown snorted in disgust.  "That Plummer pile had bolt holes all over. Not to mention Lord Ventriss has more brains than Lord Connal Plummer, or even Kincaid."

 Banks nodded in agreement.  "Your suggestions, S.I. Brown?"

 "Split up.  One team high, one team low.  Task support teams to their transportation options.  Find some low level staff and scare them into sharing a little intel."

 "Can't we get some assets on the perimeter, Captain?" Rafe asked.  "We're picking up alarm signals, so secrecy isn't the main concern."

 Banks turned his attention back to the holo. Lord Norman was in full flight, but Bradley's image was still stationary.  "Call them in.  H, your team goes in from the roof.  Rafe, secure and disable the transportation.  I'm going in the front door, but I'll be following the holo.  Connor!"

 "Sir."  Connor presented herself, still bearing the remnants of her earlier encounter with Brad Ventriss.  "Take the son. You've earned it. If he gets a bruise or two while being invited to share our hospitality, it's not a big concern."

 Megan's predatory smile was the only response needed.

 &&&&&

 Jim emerged from the Major Incident locker room with a scowl.  "Steven, what the hell?"

 Steven couldn't quite stop the smirk. "What's the problem? You have a sentinel-friendly uniform, and you don't look like someone dressed you as a joke.  If you have a problem, take it up with Diwa."

 Jim pulled at the uniform sleeve, settling the garment tunic on his shoulders.  Despite himself, he gazed into the holoreflector.  The neatly tailored uniform still bore the orange flashings of Major Incident, but the traditional gray with red piping identifying the wearer as a sentinel was new and unfamiliar.  Sentinel. Jim still wasn't sure how he felt about that.  He didn't want to change either his job or his life.  Below his familiar Senior Security Investigator insignia was a sentinel's device, with its double griffins poised over a lightning bolt.  Below rested the color bar of alternating navy and gray, which indicated formal pairing with a certified guide.

 "Diwa wouldn't shanghai a dress uniform for the entertainment.  This is your idea. What are you up to, Steven?"

 "I'm impressed, by the way.  When I have time, I need to visit your Requisition Section and take notes on their efficiency procedures. You look very official. Intimidating, even." Steven gestured for him to turn. "I think that will be just the right tone to set."

 Jim gave him a thoroughly suspicious glare. "You sounded exactly the same way the year you tried to talk me into trading Founding Day gifts, sight unseen. I think you were eight and I was ten. Now quit stalling and give."

 Steven rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "How are you feeling? Really?  A sentinel meltdown won't advance my plan."

 "I'm fine," Jim snapped.

 "Jimmm…"

 "All right, already.  I'm doing - not fine. I can tolerate things. Cameron gave me another damper dose to take if I need it.  I'm supposed to rest after this little expedition you've cooked up."  The expression on his face telegraphed his opinion of "rest" in the middle of a case.

 "Good.  The Sandburgs are at the safe house.  Arriving and getting settled will keep them busy for a bit.  I figure we can spare an hour or so before I take you over there for good."

 "And what?  I'm just supposed to hop in the transport and let you spirit me around Cascade with no explanation?"

 "I'm hurt. Wounded.  My brother suspects I have nefarious schemes," Steven said, clearly taking enjoyment in his blatant teasing.  "You are most certainly going to hop in a transport while I explain on the way.  Going in an official capacity is icing on the cake."  Steven casually twirled a data pod in his hand.  "We're going to drop in at the old homestead and demand Lord William Ellison initiate action against House Ventriss, with the complaint all but tied up in a bow."  He almost giggled.  "You showing up as a fully-paired, fully acting Sentinel Security Officer ought to just fry the old man's eggs, don't you think?"

 Jim's smile slowly reached all the way to his eyes. "You devious little shit. Like our old man hasn't been using the formal robes to cow the populace for years."

 "You disapprove?"

 "No.  Of all people, our father won't miss the symbolism."  Jim answered his brother's smile.  "Considering the little maneuver he pulled at the Sentinel Treatment Center, I might just have a couple of things to say to dear old Dad while we're there."

 &&&&&

 When Blair emerged from the grooming chamber, he was greeted with the scent of warming food - a soup perhaps, and fresh bread. The prospect of a meal set his stomach to rumbling.  Definitely fresh bread. For years, he'd gotten a loaf a week from the Citizen's Bakery discard sale on Thursday mornings that didn't require a Ration Designator, and been glad to have it.  The calories to credit ratio had been worth being in line before dawn, even if the prize was often dry or crusted with mold.

 He felt completely swaddled in the thick cotton robe he'd found outside the shower.  After years of threadbare garments, he could barely comprehend the feel of the thick looped cotton on his shoulders.  As much as he personally preferred to be clean, the shivery moments after bathing in his own apartment were his least favorite.  This was a guilty pleasure to savor.

 He left the tiled area and padded into the dressing alcove. For a moment, he wiggled his toes on the soft, padded surface.  Some sort of fiber, with low heat conductivity.  No cold toes here.  He sighed, thinking of all the times he scampered away from his plastic tub, wiping the worst of the damp off with his bare palm while he raced to his clothing across the room. 

 The dressing alcove yielded a relatively complete, if simple, wardrobe.  Sleek undergarments, tunics with a choice of long and short sleeves, two pullovers, trousers which narrowed at the calf allowing them to be tucked into boots. Thick socks.   The hanging section revealed at least two complete uniforms, one formal, one working, sporting the navy and red traditional for a guide. Since he hadn't been officially enlisted by the Security Services, the tunics bore no shoulder flashing, but a certified guide device and pairing bar were displayed on a small table beneath area reserved for a recessed holoreflector screen.  To his relief, his identity cyphers, data pods, battered com unit, transport warrant card and keypad lay nearby in a small heap.

 Blair dressed slowly, selecting the casual garments rather than uniform attire, relishing the feel of new fabric and near perfect fit. Even when he was a child, Naomi had followed the approved practice of purchasing recycled clothing, as was appropriate for an average citizen.  Only those who served the Province or had substantial credit accounts did anything different.  He could remember a few gifts of nearly new clothing: a blue sweater on his Citizen Confirmation Day, his student tunic upon entering Rainier, his first formal uniform provided by Guide Services for the Guide Certification ceremony.

 With a touch, the holoreflector dropped down into view. Other than the shadow of a few bruises, his face looked normal enough.  His wrists looked ugly, scraped raw from restraints and so far, untreated. There hadn't been time. Blair pushed up the sleeves of the tunic and pullover so the cuffs wouldn't be stained with seeping blood. For the sake of time, he'd used the grooming hood to dry his hair rather than letting it air-dry, as was his usual custom, another luxury he was unaccustomed to.  The result was a cascade of full, almost wild curls that was vaguely embarrassing.  He searched, and quickly found, a hair tie to tame the mass.

 Blair sighed.  At least he probably wouldn't embarrass his sentinel.  Not that there wouldn't be plenty of opportunities to make mistakes.  He was a veritable expert at mistakes.

 "Hey, you look better."

 Blair jumped, again startled.  He and Daryl Banks both said, "Sorry," at the same time.

 "I've got to quit doing that," Blair said. "I don't think they approve in Security Services.  I'll need to look nominally competent instead of jumping at my own shadow."

 Daryl shrugged apologetically.  "No one would blame you.  You've had a tough time.  The clothes look like they fit."

 "Very nice," Blair said, brushing the fabric with the back of his hand.  "Your requisition staff must be something.  I'm sure I owe more credits than I have to my name, and I really don't need new everything.  Could I have someone go by my place?  Pick up some of my stuff?"

 Daryl shifted uncomfortably.  "We should talk about that," he said hastily. "Why don't we leave that until later?  Just come eat. It looks pretty good, even if I was the one who organized it."

 A small table was set; mugs of soup, crispy rolls, fresh apples and steamed vegetables.   Blair couldn't help but gape at the bowl bursting with whole broccoli florets combined with hunks of carrot and squash.  This was food from Level 1 or 2 markets.  "I could have picked something fancier," Daryl said, already crunching happily on an apple.

 "It's very nice.  Fresh fruit or whole vegetables are a luxury, as far as I'm concerned," Blair said, trying not to gobble his food. In fact, it was the best meal he'd enjoyed in months.  He accepted a second helping of soup without protest. 

 "So, um, about your stuff.  Don't be upset, but I've been to your apartment," Daryl said apologetically.  He noticed that Blair stiffened.  "The intent wasn't wanton invasion of your privacy, Guide Sandburg. It was part of the investigation. I'm sorry to have to tell you, Brad Ventriss was there with two of his thugs."

 Blair set his soup mug down with a thump. His face looked even paler. "He was at my apartment?"

 "They were searching, and I walked in on them. It was a little dicey, and I'm a trained security officer."  Daryl looked at the floor for a moment, and then decided to get it over with. "I'm afraid they did a lot of damage.  They shredded or broke just about everything they could lay their hands on."

 "So no clothes," Blair said quietly.

 "Definitely no clothes," said Daryl gently. No furniture or place to sleep either, but he kept that to himself.

 "I had some things hidden." Blair looked stricken. "My books - uh, some other things."

 "Found them, or most of them." Daryl shrugged his apology. "I'm Security Services. It's my job to do these things. Your possessions are safe, and in storage at Major Incident.  I found your pictures, too, the ones of your mother," he added softly. "I could tell they were important to you by where you hid them.  They're safe as well."

 Blair fumbled with his spoon.  "I should thank you."

 Daryl sat quietly, imagining how Sandburg must feel. "But I was in your space, just like Ventriss was, without your permission.  I get it.  I just moved out of my trainee quarters into my own place.  I wouldn't want someone prowling around my place either, even if they did something on the good side.  I'm really sorry, but I wanted you to know the circumstances so you didn't feel completely violated when you found out.  I don't think there's much you're going to be able to salvage."

 "I understand," Blair said with a deep sigh. "It will be all right. It's not a bad place, you know. Working with Jim will mean an actual steady income.  I can fix it up. You just have to get creative." He straightened, looking very determined.  "I don't need a lot, you know.  I just need a place for my mom - my mom - I mean -"  His voice failed, and he looked down, away from Daryl's eyes.

 "It's not something you need to worry about," Daryl said gently.  "I know Jim Ellison.  He and my dad have been together a long time, and he's a really good guy. They'll help you figure it out. Like I said, Security Services take care of their own."  It was hardly worth mentioning that such an insecure neighborhood wouldn't pass muster with either Jim or his father.  In Daryl's humble opinion, the likelihood of Blair Sandburg returning to that particular residence was close to zero.

 Blair seemed to have lost his appetite. His head was bowed, shoulders slumped and his hands dropped to his lap.  Daryl didn't quite know what to do.  Despite the brave front, Sandburg had drawn in on himself.  Daryl had endured some sad times of his own, but nothing like this man had suffered.  What could he say to a man who had endured so much loss and betrayal?

 In the silence that followed, Daryl realized it had been a long time since the medical team had contacted either of them with an update, and that probably wasn't a good sign.  Not knowing what else to do, he went to search the well-supplied kitchen for a sweet to end the meal, leaving Sandburg to his thoughts.

 &&&&&

 Lord-elect Brad Ventriss sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling of his childhood suite.  How dare his father banish him here like a child.  And Seneschal Knowleton, with his superior airs, making plans and ignoring him like a tiresome irrelevancy.  His father thought Knowleton was a gift from the ancestors. It was maddening. How could his father fail to notice that Knowleton was always finding fault with his own son, never giving him any credit.  If they'd trust him with any real authority, they'd just see what he could do.

 He let out an enraged groan, clenching his fists to his temples.  Had his father actually threatened to revoke his lord-elect status and send the succession to another branch of the family? Did the great Lord Norman really think he'd sit idly by for that?  He knew what was due a first and only son.

 Didn't his father always preach the necessity of exercising the rights of privilege?  So why condemn his own son for having taken the initiative?  Getting stupid Rainier trivia done by Sandburg was a stroke of genius.  Hadn't he paid for it himself, no whining or begging?  He had an accreditation portfolio half the planet would envy. Besides, the whole thing was just another example of his father's small thinking.  Blair Sandburg had to be worth something other than occasionally bringing Alicia back from the brink.  Crazy cousin Alicia.  She was another sore point, always diverting attention toward her totally lost cause. Why hadn't they just put her in medisleep and saved everyone the trouble?  There was such a thing as carrying House and family loyalty too far.

 He heard sounds of incoming transport. Typical mismanagement. Knowleton couldn't even get the delivery vendors to use the service landing docks.  He briefly considered going to the windows, just to get the details for a more legitimate complaint.  Any opportunity to undermine Knowleton was probably worth the effort. Instead, he adjusted the bed supports and leaned back.  Why bother? They weren't going to pay attention to him anyway.

 He dozed off, bored and frustrated. The tramp of feet outside his room jerked him back to alertness.  Honestly, the staff needed to be reprimanded.  Serve, but be unseen and unheard was the standard.  He was getting seriously annoyed when the door to his suite burst open. The figure which appeared on the threshold was somehow familiar -

 Bradley Ventriss sat straight up on the bed, his irritation shifting quickly to fear.  "You!"

 &&&&&

 Jim tried to get comfortable in the seat of Steven's personal flyer.  Not that it wasn't an outstanding example of high-credit, top-of-the-line transport, or that his brother wasn't a fine civilian pilot.  No, that creepy crawly feeling was probably more of the sentinel crap. As he squirmed restlessly, tangled thoughts of guide and sentinel, frustration and fear, tumbled through his mind. What he wouldn't give to snap things back to the way they were.

 Or would he?

 Steven swung the transport out of Cascade proper, gaining altitude and acceleration in a wide, sweeping turn moving into the flight paths reserved for the privileged.  Jim involuntarily drew in a breath despite himself.  This was a sensation out of his childhood and youth, one of those things you were aware of long before you really understood it. The realization that you were different, special, one of the elite.  This is where you left the citizens behind, as you moved from the citizen flightgrids and to access the aristo superfly corridor.  This used to mean going home.

 Jim hadn't set foot in the place for a very long time.  A place of shadows and bitterness as far as he was concerned. Too many secrets, too much anger and disappointment, not enough love.  Any fleeting memory of home resurrected his mother's departure, an aching loneliness that no amount of effort ever fixed.  Facing his father brought all those old battles and hurts foaming to the surface.  Maybe this uncomfortable itchiness was more emotional than physical.

 Time for a distraction. 

 They were hitting the outer ring, the aristocrat slang for Houses not part of the original Founding Fifty.  He mentally ticked off the relationships as one estate after another appeared below them.  The Akiyama place, its sleek white walls and jet black rock work as different from his childhood home as night from day.  He and one of the Akiyama boys had shared a language tutor for years. They'd been inseparable until Jim had left for the military.  The Murat place, followed by Whalen, Guzman and Fox.  As Steven made the next adjustment toward the northeast, the Adoyo home became visible over the crest of the first range of foothills outside of Cascade. Twin girls there, Steven's age. Then came a long strip of forest, winding back into the mountains and jointly owned by the Houses. Those lands were set aside for recreation, wildlife and a host of other things not discussed publicly, some of which dated back to the chaos years, when the Founding Fifty were basically armed fortresses beating back anarchy.  The ceiling beams in the Ellison lake house were  harvested from those forest plantations.

 "Jim, relax.  You know what's down there by heart," Steven said softly.

 Jim looked across the transport and ruefully returned his brother's smile.  "Yeah. Some things you don't forget."

 "You look like a plucked instrument string. I promise, I'm not going to let us crash."  He paused briefly. "How long has it been, anyway?"

 "How long since what?  Since I saw Father?"  Steven nodded, not taking his eyes off the course console. His brother had asked casually, without judgement or eye contact, making it easy on him, no doubt. Not the image of his brother that Jim had nurtured all these years.  "Not counting yesterday, Lord William and I last had a frank exchange of views while I was flat on my back in Military Injury Rehabilitation, when I came back from my last off-world mission in pieces."

 Steven snickered.  "Exchange of views.  So that's what they call a shouting match in the Forces. They wouldn't let me see you, so I got the recap from Seneschal Heydash after the fact.  I've never seen Father so angry before or since." Steven shook his head ever so slightly. "Heydash was ever the proper Seneschal, but he was really torn up by the breach.  I think that's what drove him into retirement."

 "I hate to think that was my fault," Jim said, his tense expression deepening into sorrow.  "Bud Heydash was a good man.   He deserved better than being perpetually stuck between the Head of House and me."  Jim looked down at his hands for a moment and continued in a strained voice that Steven could barely follow.  "I heard he retired and had taken ill, but I was so pissed off with everything House Ellison, I never spoke to him before he passed."  He sighed, idly fingering the restraint webbing. "I should have thanked him for all the times he ran interference for me."

 "He knew, Jim.  Seriously, how long since you've actually been home?"

 "Since Carolyn," Jim said.

 "The night you - ?"  Steven's voice trailed off to a hesitant whisper. "The night you renounced? Jim, I'm sorry."

 Jim closed his eyes at that painful memory, balling his fingers into fists.  He'd been so angry, so betrayed.  His scheming father and that duplicitous bitch.  It was as if he could still feel the texture of the family charter under his fingers as he scrawled his signature wildly across the section designating him heir-elect. He could see Carolyn snarling in frustration, her face pale with just two spots of color over her cheeks as he tore the seals from the compact that joined them and their Houses into dynastic union. The echo of her shrieks as he'd walked out the door of his former home with absolutely nothing. By the ancestors, he'd never get over that night.

 "I should have gone after you," Steven said softly.  "I wanted to. It was like being frozen in my worst nightmare."

 Jim looked at him in shock.  He'd always imagined his brother watching his retreating back, gloating at his sudden elevation to first heir elect. 

 "Don't look so surprised." Clicking the flyer to autopilot, Steven met his stare.  "I think we've both figured out by now that approval from Father was all either one of us wanted.  His decision to make us competitors for his scant praise wasn't our doing. Believe me, Jimmy - Jim - the last thing I wanted was to be heir-elect at your expense.  I just didn't know…"

 Touched by his brother's sincerity, Jim answered with a rueful smile.  "It wouldn't have mattered, Steven.  I would have decked you if you had come near me."

 "So what?  You were right.  Carolyn would have gnawed at the soul of House Ellison and destroyed it.  If you knocked me on my ass, I should have gotten back up and begged you to stay."  His shoulders slumped infinitesimally, as if an old burden had suddenly descended.  "I wanted to, but I didn't have the courage to stand up to Father the way you did."

 "Thanks for saying that, Steven," Jim said, even though he knew in his heart no action would have changed the trajectory of that fateful night.  "Lord William wasn't the only one impervious to reason."

 The two brothers fell silent.  Jim found it strangely hard to breathe, and leaned his head against the flyer side viewpanels.  The tightness in his chest drained his energy.  He fastened his eyes on the ground as it whipped below them, registering nothing, wiping his mind of conscious thought...

 "Jim, are you having a problem over there?" Steven asked anxiously.  "You still with me, bro?"

 Jim's head snapped back. Lost in thought, he'd been watching the beacon lights marking the boundary of the Ellison estate. From a high speed transport, those beams should bleed into one continuous stream.  Jim realized he'd been seeing individual beacons whipping by, like yellow pearls sliding in front of his eyes.  Zoning, wasn't that what it was called?  "Sorry.  I kind of lost track - uh -"

 "Sentinel thing?" Steven asked, sympathy tingeing his tone.  "Honestly, Jim, this was my idea, but maybe this it too much right now.  We could go back."

 "No.  I'm fine."  He turned to his brother, forcing his thoughts back into neat, disciplined order. "Are you sure you want to do this? Father doesn't really have to know your role in all this.  We could keep him in the dark."

 "A vain hope," Steven said with a snort. "I've been gone for hours, and you don't skip through House security by accident.  May as well claim my actions and make a point."

 Jim gave him a weary smile.  "And just what will that point be, Steven? Explain it to me again. I'm not sure I really followed the first run-through."  Despite his best effort, he couldn't keep the doubt out of his voice.

 "It may surprise you, but our father believes we're on the cusp of another social upheaval," Steven said. He chuckled at the look on his brother's face.  "Trust me, I've listened to this speech often enough to chant it, so believe it. Change can be abrupt and catastrophic, or managed.  He wants managed, and he's committed to badgering the Houses into just enough change to prevent a meltdown.  Can you imagine the reaction if Naomi Sandburg's mistreatment was exploited by activists to inflame the citizenry?  An action that egregious could be the tipping point." 

 Jim found himself nodding in agreement.  

 Steven continued.  "He won't want to admit it, but this one will scare the life out of him. When presented with the alternative, he'll cooperate, and be indebted to the ones who provided a viable solution. That would be you and me. Sort of shifts your bargaining position, don't you think?"

 "Come on, Steven," Jim said, not hiding his skepticism.  "You're dreaming. Our parent isn't reform-minded with concern for a well-governed citizenry.  Citizens are an expendable resource for people like us to use, nothing more. He doesn't give a damn about Naomi Sandburg or any other citizen of Cascade Province.  Grist for the mill, Stevie."

 Steven smiled at the use of his childhood nick-name. "Totally true, but he knows that the Houses preserve their power when citizens have no compelling reason to challenge the status quo.  These days, he fears the catalyst that provokes outrage."

 "I guess I can see that," Jim said. "The last decade's been tough on the lower citizen levels.  You're saying it's a means to an end, protecting his own long term priorities. Now that I can see."

 "Exactly.  He's spent most of the last three years as Council of Lords Presiding Officer trying to rein in excess generated by our fellow aristocrats, specifically to keep from generating the spark that ignites the firestorm. He truly believes that a crisis is coming and the Houses can't afford to expose either a vulnerability or become the focus for citizen rage."

 "Is this our father we're talking about?" Jim shook his head doubtfully. "I can't imagine his thinking. He believes privilege as an organizing principle."

 "Privilege, yes, but not without restraint."

 "He doesn't care, Steven.  He never cared."

 "You work the streets, Jim.  What's the level of desperation out there? Try feeding a family on a Level 4 citizen's credit draw.  Resources are thin, food quality and quantity are low, jobs are scarce.  We're at the tipping point.  We try to hide it, but the bottom third of our society faces rationing for damn near everything.  And that's for citizens!  What about the masses in the Boundary, really living hand to mouth, no medical services, no education, no rule of law.  Father may not care for altruistic reasons, but believe me, he can recognize a threat to the wellbeing of the House.  Lord Plummer challenged the citizen and aristocrat ruling structures, and what Lord Norman did is beyond the pale.  It's just the kind of thing he's harangued about.  If we hand the evidence to him, he'll use it to drag the other Houses along and get the concessions he's really after."

 "I think he'll cover it up.  Easier to avoid a citizen uprising by getting Ventriss off, with everything happening in secret."  Jim's eyes flashed with unchecked bitterness. "That's the way it's done, and you know it.  If that's the plan, I won't do it, Steven.  Ventriss is going to pay for his actions as publicly as possible."

 "No, that's not what I'm talking about," Steven said firmly.  "Fifteen, even ten years ago, you'd have been right about Father.  He'd support another aristocrat at all costs, especially one from the direct bloodline and of the Fifty.  Now, he'll choose to excise House Ventriss like a cancer and take credit for it.  I'm sure of it."

 "I can't see it.  He's as likely to give the House credits away as charity."

 "Jim, he's genuinely concerned about the survival of the institution.  He's obsessed with seeing House Ellison safely into the next century and beyond. William Ellison understands the grand gesture.   Where's the greater gain, in getting either Ventriss or Plummer off quietly or using them as scapegoat?   Actually, he won't even try with Plummer. The decision to dump him from Head of House and any Council protection was made damn quickly. It completely deflects the blame away from the institution and onto the individuals."

 Jim shook his head.  "I'll follow your lead on this.  Just remember what I said.  One way or the other, Ventriss father and son will pay for what they've done."  He realized Steven had switched from autopilot and was starting their descent. He wanted to believe what his brother was saying, but maybe he should abort this before it got started.

 Steven read his brother's reservations. "I'm not explaining this well," Steven said.  He pulled their transport into a high hover and turned towards Jim.  "When we were growing up, his fear was the mob. Remember those endless lessons we had on the French Revolution and the American Food Mutiny of 2080? Mobs are straightforward. Call out the troops and enforce order. Punish, execute the leaders, do whatever you need to do to bring them to heel."

 "Exactly," Jim said.

 "But, Jim, that isn't what he fears now. Reverence for the Houses has eroded, subtly, but it has.  He isn't scared of the masses and mindless fury.  What keeps him up nights is men like your Captain Banks."

 "What?" Jim said.  "You're joking. Simon's no revolutionary."

 "Oh really?  Jim, you're thinking like a citizen, not one of us.  Look at your captain through House eyes.  What is he?  What does Banks represent?  Educated, confident, and completely un-awed by any title and privilege he thinks is undeserved. Above all, he believes in fairness and the rule of law.  Special privilege galls his soul."

 "He's not alone.  It galls my soul, too."

 "You know your own history.  When the Provinces took form, people made choices. The denizens of the boundary were weeded out as having too little to offer or so violent as to be unmanageable. The remaining citizens accepted the Houses as a ruling class because it was the only way to rebuild society and have some semblance of order.  They swapped ideals of freedom and equality for employment, order and a social safety net."

 "They took half a loaf," Jim said in a tone laced with bitterness.  "Or more accurately, a quarter of a loaf, on a good day.  Too often it's crumbs from the table."

 "So it's an eternal balancing act between the desire for real equality and a desire for a functioning society. Right now, and as you so accurately report, the citizen's portion isn't worth the trade.  Banks is representative of the kind of man who could be provoked in the name of principle, with the abilities to act upon it. Lord William would dearly love to sacrifice a Ventriss to keep a Banks, and all like him, on the side of the Houses and some semblance of maintaining the current status quo. He'll do this, Jim, on our terms. I know he will."

 Jim tore his gaze from his brother's face, concentrating on the manor house below them, its gray stone towers pushing up towards them like swords.  The estate had started its life as a fortress, and he was about to storm the gates. Could Steven possibly be right? Wouldn't he know Lord William's mind like no one else?  "Lead on," Jim said.  "We'll do it your way. Take us down and let's get on with it."

 &&&&&

 Megan Connor couldn't help but smile. She'd sincerely hoped that the sight of her Security Services uniform would be a cold shock to Brad Ventriss. Although he still sprawled on the bed, the look on his face was priceless.  Sometimes the vids that were routinely run during an arrest were a pain, but this one was going to be added to her collection of all-time favorites.

 "Oh, my.  Weren't you expecting me?" Connor asked sweetly.  "And we had such a nice time together when you ordered your associates to work me over.  You did a lovely job of staying in the background on the evidence vid, by the way. Very nice for the facial recognition evals."

 She motioned her support team forward. She'd warned them to disarm any bodyguards they found.  As she suspected, they were more bluster and brawn than useful protection for their employer. Several were already in custody, caught completely unawares.  Much to her delight, in this room, Brad Ventriss appeared to be alone. The record of his arrest would be unmarred by other distractions.

 "You have no right to be here!" Ventriss shouted, vaulting to his feet.  "How dare you!" One of the support officers firmly pushed him back down onto the bed, where he sat with a thump.

 Connor couldn't have been enjoying herself more. "Actually, we do. This is an official Security Services operation.  I suggest you consider cooperating.  Gentlemen, secure the room."  Connor moved to a dressing table and examined a few items strewn of the surface. "Excellent. Com unit, data pods, computer link. Officer Barton, catalog these items for evidence."

 Ventriss lunged at Connor.  The nearest support officer swept his legs and dumped him unceremoniously onto the floor.  He glared at the prone figure, then nudged a rib with his toe. Ventriss looked up with a snarl. Connor knelt so he could see her face as she spoke.

 "Bradley Ventriss, you are currently under a detention order.  Your right to an advocate will be honored after your transport.  Submit yourself for detention."  The formal words rolled off her tongue.  Slightly different than the phrasing used in Austro-Pacific, but imminently satisfying, none the less.

 &&&&

Meecha Foster blinked back the tears and forced herself to take slow, calming breaths.

_You can do this. Don't let her beat you down._

Rainier really was a visually spectacular campus.  Concentrating on the fountains in this spectacular garden usually calmed her, but today was a real struggle. Between ragged sobs she tried to breathe through her nose, and gain a little control.  This was one of her favorite times of year in this garden, when the white and purple wisteria were blooming, saturating the air with their fragrance. The cultivar had been bred specifically for the mild Cascade climate.  They bloomed early and long, and always reminded her of lavender and honey.

Honey. What a contrast to the woman who seemed to rule her life, Chancellor Edwards.  Whatever word was the exact opposite of honey was more likely description for her.  How did such people ever move into positions of authority?  Who had she bullied and exploited on her way to the top?

Meecha went through her mantra.  She'd worked hard for her position.  Academic Support Specialist to the Chancellor of Rainier was a coveted job.  It paid well, better than she'd ever expected when she finished her training.  Despite having to work with Edwards, the Provincial University was a fabulous place to work, with numerous benefits most citizens couldn't dream of.  Her children would be allowed  special admission consideration when they were old enough. She had the security of continued employment.  She had respect from her family and friends.

She had Edwards. That contemptible harpy was more than she could take.

Ever since Professor Okalu had called on the Chancellor, Edwards was impossible. Abuse had rained down on Meecha's head in a poisonous flood.  The "Marvelous Marie", with her sophistication and her tailored suits and expensive tastes had herself in some kind of predicament.  Meecha knew all about Edwards' special friends. Lord Ventriss always made her skin crawl, but she'd almost cheered to hear him berate the Chancellor over some mishap with the equally creepy son.  Lord Ellison was a newcomer, but always treated Meecha with perfect courtesy. When he spoke to or about Edwards however, he sounded perfectly lethal.  Edwards had managed to anger the powerful aristocrat - something with the Guide Institute.

Not that it mattered much to Meecha.  All that mattered was that everything was unsatisfactory, and apparently, Meecha Foster was at fault for anything and everything. Lunches were discarded as inedible. Orders were conflicting or impossible to execute.    The scathing reprimands were without end.  And finally, in a screaming rage, Edwards had thrown a full cup of coffee at her from point blank range.

Five years she'd worked for that woman.  She'd suffered through innumerable tantrums, but this - this was just too much. Meecha scrubbed the tears from her cheek, and brushed a futile hand across her stained blouse, the crisp white spoiled with coffee.  Droplets of blood welled up from where shards from the shattered paper-thin china cup had pierced the skin on her neck.

How she hated that woman. She was a Citizen. She had rights. She - she knew things.

And with that radical thought, her breath steadied.  If Edwards wasn't worthy of her loyalty, she could pursue a different path. How hard would it be? More importantly, how risky would it be? A few data pods and a little selective data mining would be all she'd need.  The University had an advocate for employee relations. She could seek their protection. In fact, some of what Edwards had done might even be criminal.  Did she dare go the Security Services?

At least she could protect herself.  Meecha Elisabeth Foster took one last long breath of sweet air, and embraced a new plan.

&&&&&

 S.I. Henri Brown motioned for the charge to be detonated and was the last to take cover. The FTC, focused thermal charge, gave a dull boom, blowing the security seals clean off the door panels blocking their pursuit.  With Brown in the lead, the detention team flowed through the wrecked barrier with near soundless precision and a great deal of caution.  They'd already lost two officers to Lord Norman's remote incendiaries. The first device had caught them unaware, nearly torn one trooper's leg off and severely burned the second.

With a snarl of frustration, Brown called the team to a halt.  The scout sensors were screaming.  The passageway they'd breached was alive with more anti-personal electronics. He couldn't risk another maiming injury trying to pursue.  In the distance, he could hear the roar of a personal flyer racing away at maximum speed. The science tech assigned to them activated a different sensor and shook her head.

Brown activated his com unit.  "Captain, we're blocked here.  The Seneschal and Lord Norman are getting away.  We can hear the flyer."

"How many casualties?" Banks' voice crackled over the com.  Despite all their surveillance, the Ventriss estate had better jamming devices than they had expected.

"Multiple, Captain. One serious.  I'm sorry, sir."

"I'll notify air defense.  Maybe we'll pick them up when they breach open airspace.  Leave a team to secure the area and return to the staging zone. We'll send a full science team in to document the obstruction devices for evidence."  There was a pause.  "Not your fault, H.  We'll get him."

Brown motioned for the majority of the team to withdraw.  Captain Banks was being charitable.  Lord Norman Ventriss had successfully evaded detention - again. Taggert would be beside himself.

Henri knew what failure looked like, and this was it.

&&&&&

Steven led them into the estate through the formal entrance. Jim's eyes followed the grand staircase on its winding journey to the second floor balcony and beyond. Down the west passage was his childhood room, the nursery, the instruction room where he'd been tutored in House history, languages and any other subject deemed necessary by a stern father. Steven's room was just beyond. At the far end, his mother's suite, looking out over the rose garden she had tended and loved.

 Now was not the time to think of his mother.

 Steven was occupied with the staff, hastily accessing clothing that would bring him in line with Jim's uniform. Lord William was a big believer in formality.  Steven reasoned there was no point in starting out on the wrong foot by appearing in casual dress. As his brother shrugged into the tunic marked with House Ellison colors and the shoulder flashings of Seneschal, Jim noted the staff seemed accustomed to the request for a quick wardrobe change. Interesting.  Steven - the adult version - continued to surprise him.

 During the wait, he hesitantly expanded his senses, cataloging the sounds and smells, different but oddly reminiscent of his childhood. He could see the slight dent on the ornate stair railing, the remains of a brotherly mock sword fight, a boyish excess they'd both been punished for.  He knew it was tiny, yet he could see it perfectly from a good forty feet away.  His grandparents' portrait still hung over the fireplace, and he could see every brushstroke and fleck of dust.  Best not to mention the dust.  Some poor child on the housekeeping staff would suffer. Jim could smell a faint whiff of wood smoke and almost grinned.  His father's disregard of environmental restriction when it came to the estate fireplaces was legendary.  He'd fire up a blaze right in front of a senior enviro monitor if he felt like it.

 Steven was already starting down the first level east passageway and the formal reception rooms, his footsteps creating complicated echoes on the marble tiles, still speaking to the house staff as he went. "No, we don't need to be announced. Send down to meal prep for espresso, coffee, steamed milk and cinnamon.  Of course my father doesn't prefer it.  It's not for him." He looked over his shoulder to ensure Jim was following.  "And see that we're not interrupted!"

 Jim's steps faltered momentarily.  Steven was making a beeline for their father's formal reception suite, the beating heart of commercial and dynastic House Ellison. Third door to the left. When opened, the ornate double doors would reveal the scene of many a dressing down.  Jim had never entered without a knock, followed by a pause to be recognized and admitted.  Steven swung the antique carved doors open without so much as a tap. Jim swallowed down his nerves and followed in his brother's steps until they came to a stop, side by side, before the desk of Lord William Ellison.

 The Head of House Ellison barely looked up from his work. "So my sons have returned. Perhaps you'll grace me with an explanation."

 "Good morning, Father," Steven said briskly. "Really, Father, it wouldn't kill you to welcome Jim home.  We're not teenagers coming in after curfew."

 "Don't be presumptuous, Steven," Lord William said sharply, finally looking up.  Jim realized he could hear his father's heart beating a rhythm double time, accelerating as he spoke.  His physiology didn't match his calm demeanor.  What a revelation.  His father was nervous.

 "I'll deal with you later, Steven," Lord William said sharply. He pushed away from his desk and stood, glaring pointedly at his elder son.  "James, you're here in uniform, so I gather this is an official visit.  Allow me to receive you properly."  He waved a hand toward the seating area.  "Please sit down.  I'll send for some refreshments."

 "Already done," Steven said. "You're not going to treat Jim like a functionary here to beg your cooperation."  Rather than choose one of the formal audience chairs before the desk in the reception alcove, he crossed the room and chose one of the comfortable upholstered chairs clustered around a small working conference table. He stood expectantly, waiting for Jim to join him.

 Jim fought to keep a grin off his face as he crossed the room, fully appreciating the message Steven was sending.  The sons were not queuing up in subservient position, waiting for the great man to speak.  In their household, this was the equivalent of smacking their old man across the face with a direct challenge.  To Jim's surprise, his father chose to join them without comment, taking his usual seat. After a slight pause which allowed for customary respect, Jim followed Steven's lead and seated himself.

 Score one for the challengers, but the contest was just beginning.

 Steven wasted no time.  As they had discussed, this was a business negotiation, not an airing of old grievances.  The family entanglements would come out of their own accord.  "We have a serious matter to bring to your attention, a matter which could directly damage the Houses.  As you might guess from Jim's presence, there is Security Services involvement."  William raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  To outward appearance, Steven might as well have been reporting the weather. Steven continued. "Aside from other concerns, it involves Jim's Guide.  As your son and as your Seneschal, I consider this a critical House Ellison concern."

 Lord William's face clouded with anger. "Don't be ridiculous. James left the Sentinel Treatment Center without completing Selection."

 "That's enough." Jim cut him off before he had a chance to speak.  "I have a Guide, one of my own choosing," he added firmly. 

 William's eyes flicked to the insignia on his uniform, and widened ever so slightly when he noted the double griffins of a sentinel and the pairing color braid.  "So you defy me again, in this, of all things," William said, his voice low and terse.  "Reckless, James, to enter a pairing with so little thought for the future."

 "Hardly," Jim said.  They might as well get this part of the confrontation over with. "The selection of a guide was never your choice in the first place.  You acted out of ignorance and prejudice.  Blair Sandburg is my chosen, and I am his.  Unless you're a fool, you'll accept that I'm lucky to have him."

 "And if I don't agree?" William said bitterly.

 "You can at least live up to your reputation for shrewdness and listen to truth when it's provided.  Your objections were based on untruths and circumstances contrived and orchestrated by others."

 William scowled.  "Your Captain Banks indicated as much, but I will not apologize for having concern for your well-being and acting upon it. I wanted you to have the best." He looked down and away, and added with a strained tone in his voice, "That's all I ever wanted."

 Jim had to swallow his surprise at that final comment. "Then my opinion should have been your first concern.  If I deserve the best, then I certainly deserved better from you," Jim snapped.

 The harsh exchange was interrupted by one of the house staff, bringing a tray of sweet pastries and the previously requested beverages. Before the young woman could begin to serve, Steven took charge of the tray.  "You may go," he said briskly.  "And inform the others the corridors should be cleared immediately."

 Jim picked up the subtext.  Interesting.  Steven was sending another subtle message, that this conversation was important enough to warrant totally privacy.  Steven poured espresso into two cups and served their father first.  With deft hands he prepared Jim's coffee with milk, an adolescent favorite he still enjoyed, adding just a dusting of cinnamon. He handed it to Jim with a smile. "I went easy on the cinnamon. If I remember your usual dose, it might be a bit much for sentinel senses.  Better to go easy since Guide Sandburg isn't here to bail us out."

 Jim nodded his thanks, struggling not to be distracted by his senses.  The coffee and cinnamon combination was seductive, the wafting odors like an overwhelming symphony, filling the air and surrounding him.  He sipped carefully, and quickly realized how easily he could lose himself in the flavors.

 "So this exemplary guide of your's doesn't even attend you?" William' said disdainfully.

 Steven interrupted sharply.  "Honestly, Father, practice a little of that patience you've been lecturing us about all these years.  This is a complicated situation.  You may appreciate this more fully with some actual evidence in front of you.   Steven rattled off an identification code, which was duly recorded by the room's electronics with a series of three soft tones.  "Activate viewer." He held out his hand to Jim, who supplied the data pod of evidence.  His father didn't miss the external markings of Major Incident which were clearly visible. "I think you should see this. I think it will simplify all the explanations.  Cue entry seventy-nine point four point six."

 Jim lowered his head to his hands as Naomi Sandburg's screams filled his father's elegant office.

 &&&&&

 Garrett Kincaid slammed his fist down, his wrist pulling violently against the restraints which bound him to the narrow interview table, shouting angrily.  "They have me chained like an animal!  You're my advocate.  Do something worth all the money I've been paying you!"

 Ashu Nanda sat quietly, accustomed to the these outbursts from his client. Garrett Kincaid had few redeeming qualities other than his funds.  The gray, detention-issue clothing didn't cut the same impression as the self-designed pseudo uniforms he usually wore.  "Garrett, I am doing something.  It's taken days to arrange this interview. Let's not waste our time with histrionics."

"Doing something would mean I'd be out of custody," Kincaid raged.  "Why haven't you gotten the charges dismissed? Any idiot could throw Plummer to the wolves and get me out of here."

"I've been your advocate for nearly a decade.  Getting caught with a sonic cannon sort of changes the ground game, Garrett. Treason and inciting revolt have different legal strictures.  I have some possible strategies -"

 "I'm not interested in strategies. Quit making excuses!" Kincaid roared.  "Get out there and cut a deal!  Provincial evidence against Plummer in exchange for my release.  Threaten a counter-action against Security Services. Show some damn creativity!"

 "That's enough, Garret!" Nanda snapped, chiding himself immediately for losing his temper.  Every high-stakes conference with Kincaid went like this.  He should be used to it.  "Under the detention order, they can hold you for up to a year and a day without filing formal charges, so get it out of your head that there's a quick deal on the horizon!  Got it?"

 Kincaid abruptly stopped flailing against the restraints. With the barest of nods, he indicated his understanding.

 "In my opinion, they're going to go for both you and Plummer.  I recommend -"

 "But I planted plenty of evidence! Plummer didn't even notice. You know that. You suggested most of it," Kincaid snarled.

 "Believe me, they've found plenty of it, but some of the critical elements flagging Plummer as the initiator are missing."  Nanda watched with some amusement as Kincaid's face reflected his shock. "Some of your money pays for my inside contacts. Major Incident and the Security Sciences teams aren't stupid.  If they haven't found it, it's been removed.  I'll look for it, and maybe I can arrange for it to be rediscovered." _For a fee, you worthless egomaniac. Or maybe now that you're a hopeless case and I'm going to need a new client, I'll see what Carolyn Plummer is willing to pay to protect her  little retrieval mission, her House and her position._

 "Find it, then," Kincaid said, his eyes burning intently.  "Plummer was always going to be the sacrificial lamb in this."

 A two-tone chime began to sound. Kincaid eyes darted to the room's security pad, which was pulsing yellow.  He'd been in max level detention often enough to know they only had one minute before the room's surveillance gear was reactivated and his advocate was escorted away.

 "Listen carefully, Garrett. It will be some time before I can arrange another meeting, so you think on this long and hard in the meantime. Your plans didn't account for a sentinel who can give direct evidence. S.S.I. Ellison can connect you to that sonic cannon.  With that kind of evidence, Provincial Justice doesn't have a lot of motivation to seek a deal. "

 "What's the deal with that, anyway? He wasn't a sentinel before," Kincaid said sullenly.  Then his expression changed entirely.  "People have accidents all the time, and new sentinels are kind of touchy. Not that I know anything, you understand."

  _You can't be that much of an idiot._   "Watch what comes out of your mouth.  The only thing Cascade Province wants more than your ass in a sling is to know how you got that sonic cannon, how you procured it and how you got it into the Province.  Your sole leverage is to give up your supply chain. "

 Kincaid looked genuinely horrified. "Never!  That's a death sentence." 

 "That's right, never, as in you're never getting out of here," Nanda said, collecting the few items he'd been allowed to bring into the room.  "You can take your chances with death on the outside, and use your notable skills for dropping out of sight, or you can be certain you're going to die in a detention cell, at the gentle hands of Cascade Province." 

 The chime switched to a single, long, bass tone, followed by the hum of activating surveillance.  Garrett Kincaid's face was a quivering mask of anger. "Ashu!  There has to be another way!" he hissed.

 Ashu Nanda stood, moved to the door, and placed his hand on the door-side palm scan that would verify his exit request. "Be ready to give me your answer the next time we meet, Garrett.  The Province will be considering multiple offers.  We'll only have one chance at this, and we need to do it soon."

 &&&&&

 The eating area of the safe house was warm and bright.  What a contrast to sitting down to his meager meals in his own quarters, where Blair typically wrapped himself in a blanket for warmth.  Blair tried to relax in a chair opposite Daryl Banks, keenly aware that not even the clothing he wore was his own.  He selected one of the ginger-spiced pastries from the plate.  "I always loved these.  You couldn't possibly have known."

 Daryl grinned in response. "No, but I'm sure my Dad's assistant, Specialist Rhonda Kennedy, remembers that I love them, too. She used to put me on my best behavior by bribing me.  Made my occasional visits to Major Incident a lot more interesting."  He took a healthy bite from his.  "Mmm.  Good as ever. I remember baking them with my grandmother."

 Blair nibbled on the corner of his. Each small bite burst onto his tongue, buttery and smooth, along with the bite of the ginger. How long had it been since he'd eaten such a thing?  It had been years since he'd had the funds for frivolous calories, being much more concerned with basic quantity for the lowest number of credits.  He took a second bite and somehow the taste didn't tempt him to gobble it down.  In fact, he hardly had the energy to chew it.  His hands dropped silently to the table.  He looked up to realize that Daryl was watching him carefully.

 "No appetite, huh? I get it.  You're worried about your mother.  I don't eat much when I'm upset, either.  When my parents were severing, my mom was convinced I was going to starve to death."

 Blair nodded wordlessly. He was in turmoil. No word from the medical suite, no word from his sentinel.  He was beginning to ache everywhere, no doubt because his medical treatments were beginning to taper off.

 "Guide Sandburg?" Daryl's voice was suddenly very formal. "Maybe you should consider retiring to your quarters to rest. I'll be happy to wake you if there's any word from the medical suite."

 "Maybe that would be a good idea," Blair said hesitantly.  "I don't know if I can really sleep.  Too wound up, you know?"

 "Your body might surprise you when you give it a chance to relax."  Daryl stood, and scooped up their plates and the remaining pastries. "I promise to leave some of these for you.  Go on, I'll clean up in here.

 Blair shuffled off to his suite and flopped listlessly onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.  He drew in a long breath and let it out, consciously trying to relax. His limbs felt heavy and leaden rather than relaxed.  His thought drifted to Naomi, and the next breath choked him with a sob.  How could anyone inflict such agony?  With such hate…

 &&&&&

 After setting the food area to rights, Daryl realized it might be an ideal time to update his report.  His father had been quite specific about including information about Guide Sandburg's physical and mental condition, even to the point of suggesting that he would summon Sentinel Ellison on a moment's notice if needed.

 Well, fine.

 Daryl walked softly to the room Sandburg had chosen.  He was prepared to use the access override, but Blair had chosen to leave the entrance panels ajar. He peeked cautiously into the suite. After taking in the scene, Daryl toed off his boots, retrieved an extra blanket from the shelves and carefully arranged it over the sleeping man.

 Although not trained as an investigator, Daryl knew he was his father's son.  He didn't miss the dampness on the fabric beneath Sandburg's cheek, the only remnant of exhausted tears.

 &&&&&

Lord William Ellison could barely suppress a wave of nausea when the vid screen finally went dark.  Steven, seated directly in front of him, appeared emotionless and calm.  James, however, was slumped in his chair, as if what they had just viewed was more than he could bear. As much as he hated to admit any semblance of weakness, William sided with his eldest.

 "Steven,  I gather this is your doing."  He waved a hand toward the wall which now concealed the vid screen. "Why?"

 James looked up, his expression unreadable.

 "It's a disturbing piece of vid," Steven said, his voice level and confident.  "The evidence that goes with it is equally explosive. I trust we have your attention. Security Services and Provincial Law and Justice certainly found it worth viewing."

 William knew a challenge when he saw it, and chose to meet it head on.  "Did you think to shock me, Steven?" he demanded, raising his voice. "I've waged war, witnessed executions. By the ancestors, I've ordered them. That human kind is a stranger to humane conduct is nothing new."  He waved a hand in the direction of the now hidden view screen. "Why should I care about the despicable actions of some rogue medic?"

 Steven leaned forward in his chair, his voice matching his father's icy tones.  "That vid was recorded in the Council of Lords Rehabilitation Center. The orders came directly from Norman Ventriss.  Years this woman was tortured at his hand, and it happened on your watch.  Our watch."

 "No!" William exploded.  "No Head of House…"

 "Oh, yes," Jim interrupted, his tone nearly a lethal snarl.  "Not just Head of House, but a Head of House from one of the Fifty Founding Families. The best of all bloodlines, the crème de la crème."

 "But why would he do such a thing?" William asked, now truly shocked.  "For what possible purpose?"

 Jim interrupted Steven's more reasoned answer. "Simon Banks gave you the bare bones yesterday.  Coercion and blackmail of a citizen.  You remember them, the citizens, right?  The little people we, the illustrious and privileged few, are supposed to lead and protect," Jim said scornfully.  "So much for the myth of superiority."

 "Don't denigrate your heritage!" William reprimanded. 

 Jim's anger finally spilled out unchecked. "Why?  Because we're all shamed by this, and that's not even all of it. Norman Ventriss subverted Provincial Services.  Corrupted Rainier University through your new best friend, Chancellor Edwards. Probably arranged the murder of his wife.  Shall I continue? Or do you need me to prove each of those statements to you?"

 The wrath of his eldest son took William aback. "Fine.  It's heinous.  So if I'd known at the time, I would have stopped it," William said impatiently. "I still don't see the point of this little charade you and your brother are putting on."

 Jim went deadly still before he spoke. "Look at the markings on the data pod.  Steven wasn't joking about Provincial Law and Justice.  The evidence and findings are official."

 William checked the data pod.  "Fine.  The Council of Lords will accept the referral, and we'll discipline him."

 "Not a chance," Jim snarled. "Earlier today the detention orders for Lord Norman were issued.  Major Incident teams no doubt breached the Ventriss estate before we got here. You and your fellow Lords aren't going to sweep this one under the rug.  This will play out in front of the entire Province."  He leaned forward slightly, adding emphasis to his next words. "Don't think I can't do it."

 Lord William was on his feet, shouting. "Provincial Justice? Publicly?  The governor would never dare - "

 "He already has," Steven said. "On the heels of Connal Plummer, it's not much of a jump.  You saw the evidence against Plummer yourself.  It didn't take you half a day to get the Executive Council of Lords to denounce him and to keep the rest of the aristocracy at arm's-length from the scandal of a traitor.  Believe me, Governor Thorneville is moving against Ventriss.  That vid is going out over Citizen media, to be followed by a very lengthy and very public proceeding.  So you tell me, Father, why did we bring it to you?"

 &&&&&

 Senior Medic Frank McCarthy studied the results from Naomi Sandburg's bioscreen and passed them across the conference table. Obviously, he'd made the correct decision to call in additional expertise for this case.  Microsurgeon Marjorie Lake shook her head as she read. "We should be seeing some regeneration by now.  I can't see any evidence in the measurements.  None of the cell metabolic activity has improved.  Even the infusion of cellular membrane stimulator hasn't helped." A deeper frown crossed her face. "Her blood shows sufficient substrate nutrients for cell division to be occurring.  It has to be the cell division initiators that are the problem."

 "Look at this bone plate," McCarthy said, referring to one of the macro scans.  "This is the right femur, right under the crush injury.  Doesn't that look like a little area of replication? There, on the left?"

 Lake stare intently at the screen and the accompanying readout.  "Maybe. Probably not." She shifted her attention to a different monitoring systems.  "The bone regeneration is secondary concern if her organ function doesn't improve. Are we seeing anything from the renal cell transfers?"

 "No.  Definitely no," McCarthy said, consulting the scan data. "The hepatic protein scans look bad, too.  I can't even see any repair on the pancreas, and it should be the most responsive of all the major organs."

 Surgeon Lake sighed.  "I think we underestimated the cumulative trauma she's sustained.  It's the time delay before treatment.  Her major organs could be in systemic shock."

 "It would explain the lack of response across the board."  McCarthy hated to even contemplate that possibility.  Shock across multiple body systems had extraordinarily low recovery outcomes.

 "Look, we know what repeated medisleep transition does to regeneration.   We don't even know how many times she was brought up and re-sedated." Lake crossed her arms across her chest.   "I can't bring myself to give up so soon.  Let's up the nutrient drip for the next twelve hours, and suspend all procedures for that amount of time other than microtechniques.  Allow some more time for this last medisleep transition to dissipate.  She might just need more time."

 "It's unusual, but I agree.  Her situation is so unique, there are no precedents to follow."  Senior Medic McCarthy tapped in the new orders, waiting and watching as the treatment bed responded.  "Do you think she'll rally, Marjorie?"

 "She deserves a chance.  Twelve hours - well, maybe as long as thirty-six hours, we should see something either way."  She looked steadily at her colleague.  "I don't envy you being the lead treatment officer on her case. So many competing interests. You do realize that even if it turns out to be hopeless, the Prosecutors will want to bring her out one more time to get her full testimony."

 "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, and besides, it isn't solely up to the Province.  Her son will have a chance to weigh in."  McCarthy looked apprehensively in the direction of the living areas of the medical safe house.  "I should speak to the son.  He was understandably distraught.  I was hoping for a more positive outcome to report."

 Lake waved him on.  "Go ahead.  I'll see to the support team and secure the medical suite.  I'll designate both of us on first-contact status if there's any change in her condition." 

 McCarthy left the treatment suite and slowly began stripping away his sterile outer garb.  A quick look in the mirror was enough to confirm his suspicions. The procedures Naomi Sandburg required were high risk and demanding.  The strain showed in the dark circles below his green eyes.

 He dressed quickly.  What was the son's name?  Blair. Guide Blair Sandburg, as in newly paired Guide Blair Sandburg.  Another potentially fragile situation, as if this case needed another complicating factor.  He wondered if the sentinel had returned.  Considering the gravity of their medical findings, it would be best to wait until S.S.I. Ellison returned.  Besides, hadn't the son been under treatment as well?

 Accessing the records screen in the changing area, he brought up the treatment protocol for Blair Sandburg.  His frown deepened as he reviewed the bioscan readings. Blair Sandburg was already under considerable stress without such discouraging news about his mother. This case had more complications than a Regulan vanastra puzzle.

 He found the public area of the safe house populated only by a young Security Services officer, who sprang to his feet when he entered.

 "At ease, Officer -?"

 "Banks, Senior Medic.  Security Officer Second Tier Daryl Banks, currently attached to Major Incident and the Sandburg protection team.  May I assist you in some way?  Is there news concerning Naomi Sandburg?  I should report to Command any results you have thus far."

 "I should speak with her immediate family before completing the report to your service," Lake said wearily. "Is her son available? He did choose to remain here, did he not?"

 "Yes, Senior Medic.  He's resting in one of the individual protection suites. He'll be anxious for news."

 The young officer was halfway across the room before McCarthy brought him to a halt with an upraised hand.  "Wait just a moment, Officer."  Padding softly to the door, he activated his handheld bioscreen and switched to diagnostic mode.  Blair Sandburg was, in fact, deeply asleep, which was good. His other readings - not so encouraging. Emotional and physical stress wasn't optimal for a new sentinel-guide pairing.  He really should bring in a guide specialist with pertinent treatment experience.

 McCarthy stepped away, taking care to make no noise, and the suite doors closed with a sigh.  "Officer Banks, notify the Major Incident commander that I will be dispensing an additional medic to attend to Guide Sandburg. I'll supply a suggested treatment protocol and they can arrange access in keeping with the security classification. Allow him to sleep, but contact me immediately when either S.S.I. Ellison returns or Guide Sandburg wakes on his own."

 "And my own report, Senior Medic?"

 McCarthy sighed.  "Notify your Command that Naomi Sandburg has not responded thus far to treatment.  We will reevaluate her progress in twelve hours.  Please summon my transport, Officer Banks."

 As the Security Services transport rose to the flyways, he slumped into the seat, allowing his eyes to close as he rehearsed the alternatives he would most likely have to deliver to the guide and his sentinel, and the host of others who had an interest in the doubtful future of Naomi Sandburg.

 &&&&&

  * _I told you, I sent a colleague to follow the guide.  Ellison wasn't with him.  We had to split up._
  * _Are you out of your mind? Of course I didn't follow onto the Ellison estate.  There's heightened security all around the landed estates after your little episode with Lord Plummer. Going in there was a sure way to be detected._
  * _Tell Kincaid whatever you want, I won't risk it.  Look, it's safe to assume Ellison will go to his guide eventually.  If you want him, that's the place to concentrate._
  * _I have no authorization to be anywhere near that safe house.  Send one of your brothers, preferably a new recruit.  Someone who hasn't already been catalogued by Security Services. The safe house will be monitoring everything - every transport, every resident - for a quarter mile._
  * _You asked for a location, I gave you a location._



Liam Kelly swore as the transmission broke off.

 He'd been tasked with arranging communications with Cascade Province once the sonic cannon went into action. That's the way he liked it; doing indispensable tasks away from the action.  He'd been lucky to escape the roundup of known Patriots, and was now de facto second-in-command of the Patriot Brigade.

 It was possible to communicate with their brothers in Detention.  Commander Kincaid was convinced that if Ellison could be taken out, the case against him would collapse.  Kincaid wanted Ellison found and eliminated.

 The second part of that order was going to be a lot tougher than the first.

 &&&&&

 William Ellison sank back in his chair, like a sail suddenly deprived of the gale.  His sons had sketched the outlines of total disaster.  The Council of Lords could sustain one scandal directed against the Provincial government.  There was a certain distance in treason, since it could be laid exclusively at the feet of Connal Plummer, but this, such blatant and direct abuse of a citizen, couldn't be deflected.  "This will inflame the populace," he stammered.   "Thorneville won't risk dealing with this in public. He can't.  There could - no, there will be protests, even open civil unrest." 

 He looked at James, his eyes wide, anger overwhelming his apprehension.  "You'd do this?" he shouted.  "This is why you come home after all these years?  Do you hate me so much that you'd openly attack your own bloodline? Shame the heritage of your ancestors? Be the instrument that destroys your own family?"  He slammed his open hands onto the smooth surface of the table in frustration. The sound echoed through the room like a thunderclap.  James cringed and practically curled into a ball, his hands to his ears, in obvious pain.

 "That's enough!" Steven hissed with quiet intensity.  He was instantly out of his chair, and wrapped an arm around his brother's tense shoulders. "Jim.  It's over.  That's it. Take a deep breath."

 "This is pointless," Jim said, looking as if every spoken word created a new wave of pain.  "We shouldn't have come."  He tried to rise, but Steven pressed him back into the chair.

 "We're almost done."  Steven said gently, hastily pouring a glass of spring water, an ever present feature on their father's desk.  "Take the last half of the damper dose, Jim." He nodded his encouragement, waiting until Jim had downed all of the water. 

 He spun on his heel to face Lord William, who seemed transfixed by the scene playing out before him.  "Keep your voice down," he snapped in a low voice. "Always with you, it's black or white, no idea worth considering but your own.  We're here to offer you a way out.  That is, if you can manage to keep your pride - and your temper - under control."

 "You'd halt the proceedings?" William demanded. He stared at his eldest son. Was this the reason James was presenting himself in uniform?  "Stop this before it starts?"

 "No," Jim said coldly, his hands gripped tightly around the arms of his chair as if it was about to spin off the planet. To William, his son looked pale and shaky, with tiny beads of sweat along his brow, but there was no mistaking the determination in his voice.  "Justice will be done."

 William began to bluster, and Steven cut him off. "Jim is exercising House privilege to come here.  Can you comprehend what that means to him?  By coming here, we hand you six, maybe twelve hours of lead time."  Steven pushed the evidence data pod towards his father. "Use it.  I don't doubt your abilities.  Convince the other members of the Council of Lords. Censure Ventriss preemptively, before anything is made public.  Act like a partner instead of an apologist protecting your own."

 "So I'm to pull the teeth of the tiger," William said.  "Isolate Ventriss. Act as if the Council of Lords was cooperating in full knowledge." 

 Steven raised an eyebrow, and his lips curved into a slight smile.  "You did it with Plummer. Do it again with Ventriss. By the ancestors, how can he not deserve it?"

 "Tempting."  His chin raised slightly in a gesture both of his sons recognized. "But as I've taught you, or tried to teach you, in a negotiation it's best to know the true motivations of your opposite party.  Why would either of you do this?"

 "Why, Father?" Steven settled back in his chair, but his body was taut.  "Because I know you love House Ellison, and because despite the differences you have with your sons, you've served your tenure as Head of House with an eye to the next generation.  If anyone can do this, you can."  He chanced a quick look at Jim.  "In return, we expect certain considerations."

 "James has made his feelings eminently clear on prior occasions," William said, suspicion lacing his voice. "He didn't come here to do me a favor."

 "No, I didn't," Jim said. "I have a very personal stake in the prosecution of this case.  The woman on the vid is my guide's mother."

 "By the ancestors…" William murmured, appalled as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

 "Here's the short version, Father. Ventriss wanted a guide for the crazy cousin," Steven said.  "You remember her.  I believe you advised Lord Norman to incarcerate her on a distant family property."

 William shrugged.  "His sister's only child.  It would have been difficult, but clearly necessary. Her behavior was aberrant from early childhood.  He had Bradley to consider."

 "Who's as flawed as Alicia," Jim said darkly. In answer to his father's surprise he added, "If you saw his Security Services file, you'd agree. He should have been in detention a year ago for murder, but his advocates managed to duck the case. This time he assaulted a security officer - on vid."

 "Just so," Steven agreed. "Obviously, Father, Lord Norman wanted to preserve the fiction that Alicia was functional, and avoid the obvious aspersions on his bloodline.  What do you do when you can't even buy a guide, you're sure no one will hold you accountable for your actions, and you have no conscience whatsoever? Murder, blackmail and torture, all to get a guide for a House member who never should have had one."

 "You're saying Sandburg agreed to accept Alicia solely because of the threat to his mother."  His sons' silence was a sufficient reply. William looked away, considering the allegations.  "Yes. That's exactly what Norman would do. He had limited options. If both Alicia and Bradley were considered unsuitable for leadership of the House, he'd have to go outside his own direct bloodline.  He'd do anything to avoid that." 

 "Except Alicia was too unstable to function even with a good guide," Steven said.  "Sandburg was top of his class, Father.  Exceptional.  Identified for academic advancement before he'd even finished his Certification."

 William's eyes widened in surprise, a reaction Jim didn't miss.  "Not exactly the picture Edwards painted, was it, Father?  She lied to you.  She benefits directly from patronage from the Houses.  And you bought the whole package, because it played to all your presumptions." 

 "Think about it, Father," Steven said. "Can you imagine having that level of excellence shackled to an Alicia?  And he carried on, for his mother's sake, right up until the moment Alicia damn near killed him in one of her rages.  Then when it all fell apart, Lord Norman continued the whole sordid mess to keep Blair Sandburg silent and damned in the eyes of the society which should have protected him."

 Lord William tapped the top of his desk, considering what his sons had told him.  HIs decision was swift and unequivocal.  "It's appalling, but the Council should handle Ventriss, not Provincial Justice. It's too inflammatory to be done before the Citizens."

 Jim snorted.  "The Council would give a slap on the wrist.  You know it.  I know it. Unless the motivation is compelling, and that's exactly what exposure to the citizens of Cascade is. They understand self-preservation."

 "So what exactly do you want?" William said coldly.

 "Personally?  Accept my chosen Guide," Jim said without hesitation. "No more intrigue, no more attempts to circumvent my rights or my choice."

 "You can do better, James.  Even if he is blameless, he's tarnished by his past."

 "Your criteria are different than mine. I couldn't care less about his social acceptability.  If he doesn't know which fork to use, I'll teach him.  But you accept him and protect him, as you would a member of this family. He deserves no less."

 "That's what Jim wants," Steven said. "I want something a bit more complicated."

 "All right.  Let's hear the rest of it," William said tersely.

 Steven's eyes gleamed in anticipation. "I've regretted letting Jim leave since the night he walked out of this house.  His talents are obvious.  He's a natural Head of House in ways that I'm not.  This House needs his contributions, in whatever form he's willing to give.  What I want is Jim back, as a vital part of House Ellison."  He held up a hand to stem the immediate protests from both father and son. "Father, wasn't last night enough for you to see Carolyn Plummer for what she really is? Jim was right all along - she would have poisoned the very soul of our bloodline.  Accept that and find a middle ground.  After all these years, open your eyes, swallow your pride, and bring Jim home."

 "That's the bargain?" William snapped, rising to his feet.  He leaned forward, hands flat on the surface of the table.  "You dare to come here and blackmail your own father?" he shouted. He whirled on Steven. "This is your idea of loyalty? This is how you abandon your responsibilities of Seneschal?  I won't have it. I'll strike both of you from the inheritance! Your position is forfeit, Steven Jonathon Christopher!"

 Jim's reaction was immediate.  He surged to his feet.  "Didn't I tell you, Steven?" Jim said. "Some things never change. We're done here."

 Steven grabbed him by the arm, halting his exit. "A moment, Jim." He turned back to face his father. "I serve at your pleasure, Father."  Before Jim's outreached hand could stop him, he slipped the Ellison Seneschal's device from his tunic and placed it on the table before his father, ever so gently. "Just ask yourself - is this really what you want?  To support a morally bereft member of your social class over your own sons?  This is the future you envision for House Ellison? "

 William stared at his youngest son without speaking. His face telegraphed nothing.

 "I see."  Steven dipped his head, a formal gesture, Seneschal to Head of House, that his father rarely expected.  "I'm taking Jim back to his Guide.  If you don't send for me, I accept your decision as it stands.  That is your right, Lord William, and despite what you may now believe, I am a loyal registrant and servant of House Ellison."

 Steven turned away, immediately wrapping an arm around his brother.  "Easy, Jim," he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

 Jim could manage on his own, but was grateful for the support.  "Steven, you can't -" he whispered.

 "I already have."  He cast a quick glance back over his shoulder at his father, and made sure his next comments carried across the room.  "I told you, I should have done it years ago. It would have been more honest." Steven ripped back the double doors, and they banged hard against the walls.  "I can't do this anymore," he said, raising his voice so their father could hear.  "If depraved actors like Ventriss and Edwards are the price of privilege, I'd rather stand with you."

 &&&&&

 "Young man, I'm not sure you fully appreciate your position here."

 Lord-elect Brad Ventriss glared at the towering man who'd just entered the interrogation area, an officer judging by the shoulder flashings.  Major Incident had questioned him months ago, but this particular officer hadn't been part of the investigative team that had dogged his steps.  He'd been on the lookout for that bastard Taggert, but he'd seen no sign of the man who'd led the earlier investigation.

 Well, he was heir of house, not one of the common rabble. He'd sidestepped them once, and he could do it again.

 He'd lost track of the time since being dragged out of his quarters at the Ventriss estate.  The indignities had no end.  He'd been restrained, scanned for identity, searched, deprived of his belongings and dressed in the brown drab of detention.  Absolutely no deference to his position.  His furious protests had gone unheeded.  And now this officer presumed to lecture him?

 "How dare you detain me like a common citizen! How dare you drag me down here at all? I hope you're making plans for future as a Level Four Citizen, because your days of service to Cascade Province are numbered."

 The officer was seemingly unperturbed and calmly took a seat, leaning back comfortably in his chair.  "Oh, really.  Level Four?  Quite a decline from a Captain in Security Services.  Enlighten me. Exactly how do you envision this turn of events?"

 Brad Ventriss wanted to wipe the arrogant smile off the man's face.  "The moment my father hears of this, he'll see you're dismissed.  Now release me at once."

 The captain chuckled softly.  "I'm afraid your information is a bit out of date. Your father is currently a fugitive himself, hiding from his own detention order.  He's not going to be contacting anyone on your behalf." Another slight smile. "You have a backup plan, young man? Or maybe you should start to think about cooperating."

 Ventriss felt his stomach flip.  His father, under a detention order?  He couldn't imagine.  The Council of Lords would never allow it.  It couldn't possibly be true.  "I want my advocate contacted," he said, trying to reestablish some semblance of control in this ludicrous situation.

 "Oh, that's been done."  The captain smiled again.  "Not one of the advocates under retainer to House Ventriss is particularly interested in coming down to attend you."

 "That's a lie," Ventriss snarled.

 "Sorry, young man.  Apparently, you're not terribly popular with your father's employees.  House Ventriss' assets are frozen, and no one seems motivated to see to your case unless there's a sizable fee attached."   

 "You can't freeze House assets without approval from the governor," Ventriss shouted, unable to stop the outburst. "Thorneville is a personal friend of my father.  It would never happen."

 "Actually, Governor Thorneville personally authorized the detention orders for both you and your father.  It was his idea to add the credit freeze. Trust me, those credit accounts are beyond your reach."

 Bradley's chaotic thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of the officer who had taken him into detention.  Ventriss quivered with anger at the sight of her, trim and imposing in her Security Services uniform.  "Thank you, Captain Banks.  I'm ready to begin the interrogation."

 "Carry on, S.I. Connor.  I'm sure it will be an enlightening conversation. I'll leave you to it." The Captain rose, giving her a broad smile. 

 "You can't question me without an advocate!" Ventriss cried as the captain headed out the door.  The man was insufferable, but this wretched Connor woman was worse. She had an edge to her that Bradley didn't trust.

 His protests had no effect.  Officer Connor leaned toward him.  Bradley had a internal image of a silent, beautiful predator on the approach, nearly ready to pounce.  "Oh, don't worry, Ventriss.  They're sending an advocate from Citizen Services. Poor souls.  They have to work with anyone, you know."

 &&&&&

  _Why is Lord William sending for me? Why not Gerald? Or Carolyn, since she supposedly had his support?_

 Philip Plummer shifted uneasily in the flyer seat. Lord Ellison's aide had appeared on the doorstep of his private villa, practically with the dawn, in an unmarked civilian flyer.  No fanfare, no warning.  No serving lord was craftier than Lord William Ellison.  His political skills were legendary.  If Ellison had something in mind, Philip Plummer couldn't afford to decline the invitation.  Even if Lord William was throwing his support to Carolyn, this was potentially an opportunity to influence the outcome. 

 Within fifteen seconds he'd been in the Ellison flyer and on his way.  The Ellison aide hadn't been inclined to chat, so Philip had time with his own thoughts.

Custom designated him the lesser light of his familial generation, and chance made it his great misfortune to be sandwiched between two siblings with greater appeal.  Carolyn, brilliant, beautiful and because she was female, suitable for alliance through marriage, was the apple of their father's eye. Connal showed no awareness of his only daughter's ruthless nature.  How ironic that the supposedly dutiful daughter was the first to throw over her Head of House when he became inconvenient.  On the male side of the ledger, Philip was doomed as the second son. His father, enchanted by Gerald's good looks, substantial charm, and position as firstborn, was equally oblivious with regard to his shortcomings.  Gerald's frivolous, irresponsible nature combined with minimal intellect was no recipe for success as Head of House.

 In such an environment, Philip had learned early to be vigilant, ever alert to the meager opportunities available to him. He'd developed an especially keen sense of when one of his siblings was about to chop him off at the knees. In fact, he was better at reading his siblings' intentions than almost anyone else. He'd learned to keep his alliances fluid, and to make meaningful contributions whenever possible, and especially when an action highlighted the shortcomings of his more prominent siblings.   

 Unfortunately, he hadn't anticipated how thoroughly Carolyn had insinuated herself into House Plummer operations. How could their father had been foolish enough to entrust her with the secret house accounts? Had the man no sense of self preservation?  Lord Connal was as lacking in intellectual depth as Heir-elect Gerald, and their collective foolishness had played right into Carolyn's hands.  She was well on her way to snatching House Plummer leadership out of the ashes of their father's disaster.

 So why was Lord Ellison sending for him, the second son, in secret?

 He realized how long it had been since he'd actually visited the Ellison estate in private.  He'd been a nominal companion of Steven's during childhood and adolescence. They'd been close in age, both good students, and had interests in common.   After Carolyn's disastrous performance as a consort poisoned the relationship between both houses and sent James fleeing to the military, he and Steven had even fewer reasons to seek each other out.   Casual visits to each other's home ceased.  Their paths rarely intersected except at official or Council of Lords sponsored social functions.  Despite the estrangement, the fact that Steven seemed to recognize the darker side of Carolyn's character improved Philip's assessment of the younger Ellison brother.

 On their descent to the Ellison estate, Philip spotted Steven Ellison's flyer spiraling up to catch the outbound flyway. Philip admired that flyer in the same way he admired its owner.  The flyer was not the least bit flashy on the outside, since Steven had put all his credits into the interior and the mechanics.  He'd heard admiring summaries of the vehicle's performance on the max-agility test track, mirroring Steven's strengths in practicality and performance. In Philip's opinion, the vehicle also demonstrated Steven's comfort with his position, an achievement which had eluded Philip. He envied Steven, a fellow younger son who'd managed to find his place successfully without battling for every toehold.

 He was immediately hustled into Lord William's study without a formal announcement.  Philip noted that other than his escort, no staff were present.  Whatever the purpose of this meeting, Lord William apparently wished it to be kept private. 

 Lord William was at his desk, silent and tense. Philip presented himself and executed a respectful formal bow.  "Forgive my attire, Lord William.  Your associate indicated that haste was desired."

 "I have more important things to consider than how you're dressed, boy."  Philip felt the older man's intent stare.  He might as well be a butterfly on a mounting pin.  "Your father has made quite a mess of things."

 "He has indeed, Lord William." Philip paused. "I hope you have no suspicions that I am complicit in his crimes.  I considered my father's dalliance with Kincaid foolish but ineffectual. An annoying, opinionated houseguest, but not more than that."

 Lord William frowned in displeasure. "Yet you did not think it necessary to bring Kincaid's presence or your father's association with him to the attention of the Council."

 Philip fought to keep his expression neutral. Just like Ellison to challenge him immediately.  "Lord William, I am not Heir-elect or Seneschal.  In all honesty, would you or the other members of the Council have considered such a move to be motivated by  anything other than self-interest?  Any influence I might have was best exerted in the direction of my own siblings."

 The ghost of a smile crossed William's face, as chill as a January midnight.  "Sit down, Philip of House Plummer.  Let us have a frank discussion of your - influence - and your siblings."

 &&&&&

 Lord Martin Harcourt intended to spend the morning in his greenhouse, immersed in an epic session with his oft-admired gallery of exotic tropical flowers.  The fact that most of them had been illegally imported was not as widely discussed. He'd also left strict instructions with his household that he would spend the hours amongst his flowers with his prized pair of similarly contraband hyacinth macaws as his only company. It required an extensive negotiation with the Harcourt Seneschal before Lord Ellison's personal assistant, Dylan McCabe, was admitted to the sacred ground to deliver his message personally and in private.

 "Does Lord William forget who is presiding officer of Council at present?" Lord Martin asked sarcastically.  "The rest of us spent three years running to his beck and call and mercifully, his term ran its course.  If he wishes to meet, tell him to schedule with my seneschal.  I'm occupied at present."

 McCabe ducked as one of the macaws swooped just above his head.  Miserable blue buzzards made him nervous.  "Lord Harcourt, Lord Ellison begs your pardon, but is insistent.  This crisis must be discussed in private and immediately."

 "By the ancestors, then let him come here," Harcourt said airily.  "We've had enough grief before the Council lately with that appalling Plummer business.  He can't possibly have unearthed something dire so soon on the heels of that fiasco.  I'm taking a well deserved day off."  McCabe stubbornly ignored the implicit dismissal and stood his ground.  Lord Harcourt sighed in resignation.  "Tell my esteemed colleague to stop by this evening for a drink."  The current presiding officer of the Council of Lords selected a delicately curved pair of snips and wandered off.

 McCabe swore softly under his breath.  Whatever had happened between Lord William and his two sons, the results had been devastating. McCabe had watched from the far end of the corridor as James and Steven had departed, clearly in the wake of a fierce argument.  Why else would Steven have left instructions with Valet Andrews before leaving to have his personal items immediately transferred to his quarters off the estate? McCabe had ventured tentatively into the working office to find Lord William overcome with emotion, barely able to stand or speak.

 Not that Lord William didn't have enough steel to pull himself together.  By the ancestors, that man was cold.  When word came that Philip Plummer had been delivered, the personal cares vanished behind the mask.  McCabe was given his instructions, and Philip had been ushered in before McCabe had crossed the main reception area.

 Under the circumstance, now wasn't the time to report a failure to the Head of House Ellison. McCabe didn't intend to report back with anything other than total success, which meant Harcourt was coming with him, one way or another.

 McCabe plunged into to moist, humid foliage, following the sound of footsteps and the occasional "snip" of Harcourt's chosen instrument.  "Lord Harcourt?" he called, twisting through damp leaves that invariably sent a trail of water down his neck.  "Lord Ellison bade me to mention - were you to attend to this issue promptly, he would consider more fully your desire to pursue an easement to the Skykomish shoreline.  Particularly the section through Plummer land."

 Lord Harcourt turned slowly. "He did, did he? That would be the easement request he nearly crammed down my throat just a few days ago?"

 McCabe looked up and away, delicately fingering a drooping scarlet bloom, allowing  the suggestion to hang in the air.  His instructions were to neither confirm nor deny, only to imply. Besides, he wanted to keep a look out for those murderous macaws.  If this didn't work, his next ploy was to threaten to wring the scrawny neck of the first one of those overgrown blue chickens he could lay hands on.

 Harcourt set the pruning snips down with a soft thud.  "So the old game master has a plan, and is already moving pieces on the board." He pulled off his heavy gloves and deposited them next to the snips.  "I assume he wishes me to use your transport?"

 McCabe adopted a "who, me?" innocence and nodded.  "It would seem best, Lord Harcourt.  Preferably without further delay."

 "The man will be ten days dead before we don't dance when he sets the music.  Roof flydock or east lawn?" Harcourt asked in an annoyed tone.

 "East lawn, Lord Harcourt," McCabe answered with a thin smile. Lord Ellison had been quite specific about avoiding the family landing dock and the required records notations. "Allow me to lead the way for you.  Lord Ellison has provided for your every comfort."

 &&&&&

 "Jim, are you sure you're going to be all right?"

 Jim swatted his brother gently with the back of his hand.  "That has to be the third time you've asked me in the last ten minutes."

 "I'd feel guilty about that if I thought you'd answered me honestly even once," Steven said, making the last adjustments to bring the flyer into the Major Incident flight dock.  It hadn't been the most graceful descent. "You can give me that honest answer right after you critique my landing technique."

 "Stevie, every one complains about this dock, including Captain Banks.  The Cascade Security Supervisor Warren has embarrassed himself so many times he refuses to pilot himself in here."  Jim undid the top two of his formal uniform fasteners, allowing the tunic to open to a more comfortable fit.  "As for the rest, I'm really just tired. Anything else is just stress. I'm worried about Sandburg. I'm sorry our old man ran true to form and was his usual inflexible, dictatorial self.  I'm concerned you're throwing your life away for nothing. This die was cast long ago. I appreciate the intent, but maybe it's best to accept it.  I have."

 "Translation, all that combined with the sentinel shit means you feel like crap."

 "Yeah, pretty much," Jim finally admitted, wearily releasing the seat webbing. "I'm sure Simon doesn't want me sticking my nose into the ongoing investigation just yet. I'll transfer to an unmarked flyer and go to the safe house.  Diwa and Cameron are already cleared to show up later.  Give Sandburg more reinforcements to rearrange my post-sentinel life for me."

 "You don't sound too excited about that."

 "I'm not."

 "Listen to Diwa and Cameron, Jim," Steven said.  "I liked them, and they seem to know what they're talking about." Jim stepped out of the flyer, and Steven did the same, even though he wouldn't be staying.  "Jim, you can tell me to get lost, but is there any way I can stay in contact with you?"

 Jim walked around to Steven's side of the flyer.  "Give me your com unit.  Your personal unit, not the House Ellison one."

 Steven handed it over without hesitation.  Jim keyed in a string of information and made a burst transfer from his own security services com and handed it back.  "There - a direct, secure line to me.  It's two way, and none of our communications will show up on any transcripts. I keyed the access code to your first girlfriend's name.  I figured that was obscure enough."

 "How would you know that little tidbit?" Steven asked, slightly offended at the suggestion. "Or should I ask?"

 Jim chuckled. "I must have been destined to be a Security Investigator.  You were about thirteen.  I saw you smooching Nadira at a dance, behind the coat storage if I recall correctly." Steven folded his arms in disgust. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe."

 "Way to inspire brotherly confidence, Jim."  Jim gave him a wave and started to leave when Steven caught his arm. "About Father. No matter how it looked, we shook him up.  He hears way more than he lets on.  Half his personal staff have already sent me private codings asking what the hell happened. He's going to stew for a while and then look for a middle ground.  You'll see."

 Jim nodded his understanding. He didn't believe it, but for now, for Steven's sake, he could agree.

 Continued in Chapter 2


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues...

Guide Finding Chapter 2

Jim was halfway to the Transport Unit when he doubled back and went to Major Incident instead.  He halted in the hallway, mildly surprised at how many snippets of conversation he could identify and interpret.  His first impulse was mild mortification.  There must be some ethical guidelines among sentinels about continuously eavesdropping on your colleagues.  His second impulse was angry disappointment.  Something about the Ventriss detention hadn't gone well.

His own work area was covered with communication pouches, along with a blinking light that indicated an overflow of com messages waiting for his attention.  He shuffled through the com pouches first.  Orientation from Cascade Sentinel Services.  Vid discs dealing with appropriate sentinel procedures from Cascade Law and Justice, plus a similar one from Order and Protection.  Security Services documentation for him to fill out, combining his current Senior Security Services rank with a new sentinel designation along with a pay increase for his review.  Personal greeting from Sentinel Captain Craig Chambers suggesting a series of training conferences and a personal meeting "At Earliest Convenience", which in Security Services lingo meant yesterday, if not sooner.  He searched around the bullpen for a carryall and promptly stuffed in every last one of the com pouches until it was full to bursting.  He could deal with all of it later, after he'd seen Sandburg.

He clicked open the viewscreen of the message unit and promptly shut it off.  One glance and he knew that the volume of communication was more than he could take right now. Satisfied there was nothing he really wanted to know, he drifted over toward the only other unit occupant, Henri Brown.

Brown looked up and shook his head. "You heard?"

"Not everything.  What happened?"

"First of all, forget the guilt trip. It wouldn't have mattered if you'd been there.  We grabbed the son, no sweat.  Lord Norman and the House Seneschal got out ahead of us.  Talk about a guilty conscience.  That bastard had antipersonnel devices all over the place.  We lost two officers before I had to call a halt and get Science Services in there."

"Captain put an AWP out on him?"

Brown nodded.  "That and every other conceivable thing Law and Justice can think up. We know he went north. Every border unit on the Cascade and Columbia Canada line is on high alert.  Captain is sure he'll turn up somewhere."

Henri looked positively despondent. Jim felt bad for the man. "Cut yourself some slack, H. Lord Norman knew he was dirty. He had longer to plan an escape than we had to plan a detention."

Henri looked resigned to his fate. "Captain's been pretty good about it.  I just hope Connor gets something out of that snot-nosed Bradley.  What a waste of oxygen.  Any self-respecting citizen family would have slapped him silly years ago. What is it with the Aristocrats?"

"I'm not the one to ask.  I'm the errant son, remember?"

Henri looked embarrassed.  "Sorry, Jim.  None of us had any idea.  We've always considered you one of us."

"Don't worry about it, since I take that as a compliment.  That's the way I wanted it.  Who's running the interrogation?"

"Connor."

"Alone?" Jim asked with raised eyebrows.

Henri nodded.  "Yeah.  Captain's call, and Taggert agreed.  I think it's a good move.  That woman scares me and she's half my size." 

Jim shrugged.  Connor's style was effective but unique.  "It's got to be an Austro-Pacific thing - low population and all that space.  They encourage independent action.  We view it as half crazy, but she has her moments." 

"I think our Captains figure the fact that she's so unpredictable will unnerve the weasel.  No one else had any luck with him before, and that includes Taggert. Bradley usually gets an advantage being the only one who doesn't have to follow the rules.  Connor definitely isn't big in the rule department."

"Why not?" Jim said with a shrug. "Their officers work alone with almost no supervision.  There'd hardly be anyone around to criticize.  Connor bring out that crazy antique bushman knife yet?"

"No, but I'm sure it's coming, and who knows what else. Bugs.  Snakes.  Boxing kangaroos. The Captains gave her a free hand. The powers that be want a lead. I don't think they're very picky about how they get it."

"Give me a call if anything breaks, Henri. I'll be at the safe house." Jim's expression hardened. "I mean it. This is very personal for me. I want Lord Norman in the detention cell right next to his son."

Henri Brown watched him walk away, wondering what carried the higher risk: dealing with Ellison if he were left out of the hunt when they were able to close in on Lord Norman, or controlling Jim if he ever got close to the man who'd wreacked havoc in the Sandburg family.

&&&&&

The concealed com light on Lord William's desk pulsed blue. Excellent.  McCabe had Lord Martin Harcourt in tow and was returning to the estate.  Lord William turned his attention back to his guest.  Time to bring his current conversation to a conclusion.  Make a decision and put plans into motion.

He gazed intently at Philip Plummer. The young man impressed him. Lively intellect without the volatility of his sister.  Presence without the empty arrogance of his elder brother.  By nature careful and observant, but possessed the strength that indicated he was capable of acting boldly when it was necessary.  A bit of ruthlessness, but with control.  In some ways, a blend between his own two sons.

His sons.  His boys. He'd handled that badly. William couldn't allow himself to think on that, not yet.  Now he needed to act, and didn't have the time to reach out to his sons and repair the damage of his earlier temper.  He would make his _mea culpas_ to his boys later.  For now, Philip would be the focus of all his attention.  "Young man, you possess valuable qualities. I need a direct answer. Are you willing to challenge for leadership and serve as Head of House Plummer with an eye to safely guiding your family out of disaster?"  William leaned forward, his gaze severe. 

 "You wish me to replace my father as Head of House Plummer?" Philip's voice betrayed his shock.

 "I do.  But you must commit yourself, totally and without reservation."

 Philip's only reaction was to tighten his fingers around the arms of his chair.  "I am willing, Lord William.  My siblings, however, may have other plans."

 "I'm not interested in petty squabbling between possible heirs.  I need someone who will focus exclusively on the welfare of House Plummer for the future, with wisdom and prudence.  Are you that individual?" William knew he was asking a critically important question.  A second son, elevated suddenly to prominent position, might be tempted to waste time and energy settling old grievances.

 Philip shifted uncomfortably.  William was pleased.  The young man had received the message and knew he would be held accountable, whatever his answer.  "A proper Head of House leads, Lord William." Philip kept his eyes completely focused on the older man.  "That exalted position is validated by excellence, not punitive action against other members of the family.  I assume, of course, we are discussing loyal family."

 William was satisfied with that answer, and its subtle qualifier.  Philip would take the high road unless Gerald or Carolyn forced his hand with open rebellion. "It will be necessary to solidify support to obtain swift approval from the Council of Lords. A protracted battle with your siblings will work against you, and the Plummer bloodline as a whole. Without a quick resolution, the Council will avoid choosing between sibling candidates.  They would likely break the House up, or reconstitute under a new line, rather than referee a protracted dynastic quarrel."

 "I understand, Lord William.  I believe I can do more for House Plummer than either of my siblings. I would follow your advice in this matter."

  _As opposed to my sons, who contend with me at every turn._ William watched Philip narrowly. Time to test the boy's political instincts.  "If I put your name forward, you need alliances.  What connections would be of use to you?  Particularly with connections to our current Council of Lords."

 "My wife is niece to Lord Wylie. She is a favorite among the extended family."

 "Excellent.  A sitting Council member.  Any others?"

 "Lord Ferrer is related through her female line, and stood witness at her infant dedication in the bloodline. I know Lord Northbrook well. I've spent time with his family growing up. His son stood witness at my Joining Ceremony with Melissa."

 "That's a start.  Is your wife discreet?  A woman of serious nature?"

 Philip tensed.  The story of his father's objections to his selection of Melissa were well known. He had chosen his life partner for her sweet nature and her intelligence, not her political skills or ambition. "My wife is both serious and discreet.  I value her counsel, and rely on her wisdom.  She manages our household admirably."

 "Fine qualities, but not necessarily what you need at the moment.  I would direct her to cultivate those connections swiftly, with an emphasis on discretion. Can she, will she do that for you?"

 "Yes.  I answer without reservation.  People underestimate Melissa because she favors kindness over social advantage. She will rise to the occasion if I request it of her."

 "Good.  Can you venture home without calling attention to yourself and return properly attired?  A late luncheon, perhaps?"

 Philip nodded.  "Yes, Lord William.  As you direct. You intend to pursue this immediately?"

 William thought it commendable that Philip held his tongue, and displayed caution.  Many young men would have thrown caution to the wind at this point, overwhelmed with the prospect of elevation.  "Your brother and sister have distinct advantages.  A coup, as it were, depends on the swiftness of the action."c

 "I understand.  Then I am committed, Lord William.  I will respect the Council's decisions.  If I am not their choice, so be it.  Of course, I will be grateful for your support."

 William held the young man's eyes. Yes, he understood the debt that would be incurred to House Ellison if he were successful. "I may be able to arrange a personal audience with Lord Harcourt.  If you convince him, along with my support, a session with the Council of Lords could be arranged on short notice."

"Of course," Philip answered, rising from his chair.  "With your assistance, Lord William, I suspect anything is possible."  

 &&&&&

 With Sandburg finally resting and other officers on the official watch cycle, Daryl took the opportunity to catch up on some of his action reports.  After years of listening to his own father, Daryl knew the value of good documentation. Any temptation he might have toward sloppy work was erased by the need to truly earn any advancement that might come his way.  Besides, he was enjoying this side venture into Major Incident.  He was young, but exemplary performance might extend the opportunity, or make a more permanent invitation at a later time possible.

 He was just finishing the required summary ominously titled, "Mental State of Secured Justice Asset Blair Sandburg," when his intrasite com sounded.  "Officer Banks, we have a Security Services vehicle requesting permission to dock. We need you to verify the landing codes."

 Daryl moved swiftly to the exterior guard loft. As a secure site, the landing codes were encrypted with multiple send and response, combined with approved bioscreen data.  The third set of entry codes were just starting to chime when the bioscreen confirmed Ellison, James. Finally, the sentinel had arrived. Daryl confirmed with his own retinal scan and moved to the docking area.

 Jim bounded out of the flyer before the last landing clamps were in place.  "How is he?"

 "Resting now, S.S.I. Ellison. I have a full report -"

 Daryl hadn't finished before Jim had pulled him along and fastened the exterior doors.  He gave Daryl a companionable shoulder bump.  "No brass around, Daryl.  Skip the formal pleasantries and get to it."

 Daryl grinned.  Jim Ellison could never be construed as warm and approachable, but he'd always treated Daryl like an amusing kid brother.  Having no siblings of his own, Daryl had always appreciated the casual familiarity.  "He's had a pretty tough time," Daryl said, walking shoulder to shoulder with Jim, passing through the additional security doors as they went. "I'm no medic, but I don't think they're thrilled with his scans.  He cleaned up, ate a little.  I finally convinced him to rest and he crashed."

 "Better than I expected," Jim said. Despite the high quality air filtration in the safe house, he already noticed a scent that said, "Sandburg," along with "soup" and "bread" - it was a bit unsettling. "Any word on his mother?"

 "The senior medical personnel stopped by after he'd gone to sleep.  He asked to be contacted when you arrived, and Guide Sandburg was awake."

 Jim stopped dead.  "That can't be good."

 Daryl frowned.  "I read it the same way.  Good news they would have shouted from the rooftops."

 "She is still alive?" Jim asked.

 Daryl nodded.  "How about I pull together something for you to eat?  That way you can concentrate on more important stuff. I think he's pretty anxious to see you."  He waved a hand around the common area of the safe house.  "Being here is pretty overwhelming for him. You haven't been in his place, have you?"

 The questioned seemed to surprise Jim. "Actually, no."

 "I was.  Jim, it was - I mean - please know I mean no disrespect.  I can't imagine anyone actually living there. No building security. A mechanical lock, if you can imagine. No central heat. One tap for water in the kitchen. A few castoff pieces of furniture. No hygiene suite, just a basic waste recycler."  Daryl perched on the arm of the nearest comfortable chair.  "I didn't think citizens had to live like that."

 "They don't, or shouldn't.  He was off the grid, Daryl, no access to services. Ventriss wanted him terrified, weak and dependent to keep him quiet.  He was barely surviving." Jim sighed with that sad thought. His visit home had brought childhood memories into sharp focus.  James Ellison had lived the life of a modern day prince.  What a contrast to his new guide's life story.

 "Just a heads up - the new clothes upset him. He kept worrying about how he'd pay for them.  Same with his mother's care."

 "That's not going to happen," Jim said angrily. The very thought annoyed him. That attitude would need to be nipped in the bud.

 "Sorry, I didn't mean to -"

 "Not angry with you, kid.  Thanks for telling me.  I'll keep it in mind."  He cast a look towards one of the three connecting doorways, belatedly realizing he knew exactly which one Blair had chosen.  He sighed again.  More sentinel weirdness.

 "Go see him," Daryl suggested. "I'll get going on the food thing."  He grinned mischievously. "I think Rhonda supervised the supply requisition."

 "Well, then get to it.  Rhonda earns her reputation, and I'm hungry," Jim said, giving him a fierce look followed by a lazy smile.  He slipped out of the dress tunic and abandoned it over the back of the nearest chair.  Leaving Daryl to another adventure in food prep, he followed the sound of breathing and slipped into the nearest living suite.  After all the desperate hours trying to locate Sandburg, his first impulse was to rush forward and pounce, reassuring himself that all was well.  The stronger, second impulse kept him frozen in place.  The concept of sentinel and guide, and how it related to the Jim Ellison he had always been seemed incomprehensible.  He stood just inside the doorway of the darkened room, watching, waiting, trying to sort out a flood of information he shouldn't know. 

 Across the darkened room, he could see Sandburg was finally in some decent clothing.  The body temperature features of the bed weren't activated. Blair had opted for a relatively old-fashioned blanket, which was snarled around his legs. The odors of the streets and the Boundary were gone.  Jim could detect body wash and cleaners, which must have been selected for his benefit, overlying the scent he'd come to associate with his Guide. That in itself was a surprise.  Blair's hair had come free from a tie, and snaked in a surprising cloud of tight curls across a cushion he'd pulled haphazardly beneath his head.  The even breathing of sound sleep was muddled just a bit - perhaps a touch of congestion. Tentatively, Jim listened more closely. Definitely a bit ragged.

 Jim carefully lifted up a chair and placed it near the bed, not too close but where Sandburg could see him clearly. He held an open hand over the skin of his forehead, then again where several layers of clothing had shifted up, leaving the bare skin of Blair's midriff exposed.  Warm, maybe too warm.  Was this what infection felt like?  By the ancestors, this was like suddenly forgetting how to speak your own language.

 He sat back, aiming for some sort of watchful neutrality, where everything didn't feel like a bad surprise.  Finally, Sandburg shifted fitfully in his sleep. Jim brought the lights up just a bit. Sandburg had endured enough harsh surprises without startling him as he woke.  Jim rocked the bed surface very gently and waited, then again with a little more force.  

 Drowsy eyes blinked and found their focus.

 "Hey there, Chief.  Feeling a little better?"

 "Jim?"  Blair pushed himself up, awkwardly ending up in a worse tangle with the blanket. With a shove, he finally managed to get it in a pile at his feet.  "You're back.  Hey, let me get up…"

 Jim held up a restraining hand.  "Relax.  For the moment, we've got nowhere to go."  He reached toward Blair's face, and using two fingers, pushed his chin to the right.  "The medics should have done more treatment on these bruises."  He looked down.  "And your wrists.  I think I've been smelling those."

 Blair touched his own cheek self-consciously. "They tried. I didn't have the patience to sit through much.  It's not that bad. Sorry about the smell. Maybe I can wrap them -"

 "Relax.  It was an observation, not a criticism."

 The reassurance didn't seem to slow Blair down. "How do you feel? Did you zone?  Any pain?  Any spikes while you were gone?"

 "Which of those questions do you want actual answers to?" Jim said.  His guide's impetuous interrogation was rather charming.

 "Sorry.  I'm out of practice.  Pick one and we'll go from there.  Spikes."

 "I had a few bad moments," Jim said with a shrug, wondering how much he should edit.  Blair had enough to worry about.  "Steven tried to watch me. I took the last damper dose and toughed it out."

 "You shouldn't have been alone," Blair said, already sounding upset.  "It's too soon.  I should have gone with you."

 "Quit sounding guilty.  This was a mutual decision.  You needed to be here, too."  Blair swung his feet over the edge of the bed.  Jim slid over beside him.  It felt - comfortable.  Easy.  The creepy-crawly feeling under his skin seemed to ease.  Maybe he could get Sandburg to answer some questions without throwing the poor guy into guilty panic.  "Maybe you could explain to the rookie how this is supposed to work," Jim said with the ghost of a smile.

 "Uh, sure.  Yeah. Well, there's a protocol for introducing a latent sentinel to the new sensory levels, and there's a completely different protocol for a new guide-sentinel pair during the adjustment period. I'm not exactly sure which one applies," Blair said.  His expression got very serious.  "Actually, I'm not sure our situation has a good precedent."

 "No precedent.  Well, that would be familiar territory for me.  If you asked my father right now, he'd say I made things weird and complicated for the sheer joy of it."

 "So it didn't go so well?" Blair's expression faded into sadness. "What did you expect? You chose me, Jim. He can't be happy, and he has to be used to getting his own way.  Was his reaction that bad?"

 "Yeah," Jim said, looking up at the ceiling in a mixture of frustration and resignation.  "More directed at me than you.  I gave him other areas to be enraged about."  He nudged Blair with his elbow.  "Forget it.  Talk some more sentinel to me."

 "Well.  Sorry. Uh, let's see. For the latent sentinel stuff, we'd normally play games."

 "Games?"  To Jim's way of thinking, that sounded ominous.

 "Well, not fun games.  Exercises.  Sense games. Things to allow you to experiment with your senses in non-threatening situations.  You become aware of your potential, I can evaluate your levels and your strengths.  Eventually you deliberately attempt progressively more challenging things.  You train the senses just as you would any other part of the body."

 "Hate to tell you, but I think what you and I pulled off at the Plummer estate sort of blew the whole non-threatening thing out of the sky."

 "Well, yes," Blair said sheepishly. "But we should still go back to the beginning, even if we know you can do more.  Think of yourself as a math whiz who still has to learn some basic algebra."

 "Basics.  Hate to tell you, patience isn't my strong suit either, Chief. Maybe we could do the accelerated version."  That got a smile out of Blair.  "What about the pairing thing?  I'm not sure I can really wrap my brain around being a sentinel, much less how a guide fits into things."

 "It's not complicated.  Granted, some of the writings from the nineteenth and twentieth century made the sentinel-guide dynamic seem almost mystical."

 "In what way?"  Jim thought sounding curious was less embarrassing than admitting that ancient writings weren't usually on his reading list.

 "Hard to explain, and something to put off until later. The short version is that, at the time, really good Sentinel - Guide pairings formed spiritual connections along with physical awareness and emotional rapport."

 "Spiritual as in religious? Magical?"

 Blair smiled.  "We can let the anthropological side of things go for the moment.   Think of it this way for now. We really just get used to each other. You work, and I look for ways you can do it faster, easier and safer.  We find the best ways to help you concentrate.  I learn to read your body the same way you do, to try to anticipate problems and avoid them.  You do the same for me. You do your regular job, I suggest strategies.  I give you a focus point when you need to regroup.  For a well-matched pair, it usually comes naturally."

"What are we?  A well-matched pair?"

 Blair smiled shyly.  "I think we are.  It feels that way to me."

 "Good." Jim said, giving his partner a playful push that propelled him off the bed.  "Let's go with that.  I'm starved.  Come help me eat."

 &&&&&

 Frazier Thomas tapped the hyposonic emitter, noting the solo arrival at the safe house.  He was thrilled to have been given such an important assignment after only a few months with the Patriot Brigade.  Vice-Commander Liam wanted a fresh face, and out of all the recruits, he was it!

 Too bad the safe house had an internal dock. It would be even better to give an identification.  So far, all he could say was that the incoming and outgoing transports had been small. He'd been instructed to watch for large transports, which would indicate that Security Services were reinforcing against any attempt to breach the safe house perimeter.

 Time to move to his next watch station, a small shop down the street.  As Frazier stood, he brushed his hand over the discharge weapon he'd been issued, enjoying the silky cold of the metal surface.  It would have been more satisfying to carry it openly, but that pleasure would have to be delayed.

 He'd been allowed to practice in the Brigade's weapons facility.  He was a good shot. Under his tunic, he tightened his fist around the concealed aiming stock, imagining how it would feel to be part of the team assigned to storming the safe house and executing the enemies of the Brigade.

 &&&&&

 Ventriss Seneschal Gresham Knowleton shivered, with good reason.  The Security Services overflights were relentless and alarmingly thorough. Of course, when Security Services issued an Apprehend Without Prejudice Order, they were serious. He'd made basic assumptions in his escape plans for Lord  Ventriss. Most Heads of House had contingency plans for disappearing during uncomfortable situations; a mistress to be avoided, a spouse angered beyond reason by infidelity not kept neatly discreet, the occasional wayward child to be sequestered.  Actual violation of Provincial Justice statutes normally required the guilty to drop out of sight for a time while proceedings were forestalled by exertion of aristocratic privilege. If the Council of Lords got involved, a  penitent apology and a generous donation were generally sufficient to return life to its regular rhythms.

 All that changed when he'd entered the employ of House Ventriss. He'd served the aristocracy in lesser positions in other Houses.  Individuals with power and credits, who imagined themselves above Justice, occasionally needed a spot of protection.  He'd embraced the position of Seneschal confident he understood the parameters of his new opportunity.   After years in the military, he'd started domestic life late, and had a young family to provide for.

 He'd never anticipated the depth of depravity, or the frequency with which House Ventriss violated Provincial and Council of Lords statutes.  Bradley and Cousin Alicia were the twin stars in a pernicious galaxy, one which drew ever closer and painfully bright.  His first years were kept busy getting those two out of one scrape after another. He'd protested when Lord Norman evaded a direct Council of Lords order to place Alicia in full seclusion. He hadn't had the courage to leave Lord Norman's employ over the issue, an action he'd come to regret bitterly.

 Lord Norman's relationship with Lady Elizabeth deteriorated, and she turned her eyes to Naomi Sandburg and Terra Natura for solace. Lord Norman had initially been outraged. Knowleton could hardly blame Lord Norman. The woman was a lovely, idealistic annoyance, and Lady Elizabeth was completely under her sway. Lord Norman had been content with straightforward harassment until he realized that Naomi's son might be of use with Alicia.  After several attempts to divert the young man from his studies, Lord Norman had insisted they subvert Rainier University directly.  When that didn't work, he was ordered to begin threatening the young man.  Again, he couldn't bring himself to walk away from the financial benefits of a position with such a prominent House.

 He'd honored Lord Norman's request and sketched the details of an arranged accident for Naomi Sandburg.  Lord Norman had assured him it was merely a threat, a close call to frighten the Sandburgs and ensure Blair Sandburg's acceptance of Alicia, that he had no intention of executing any actual harm to the woman.  When Lady Elizabeth had been killed and Naomi Sandburg critically injured, he'd been appalled, but accepted Lord Norman's tearful assertion that his instructions had been misunderstood, that the men he'd hired were incompetent.   Eventually Knowleton realized the truth, but by then his hands were soiled with the blood of reality - Lady Elizabeth's murder, Naomi Sandburg's torture, and the chaotic situation with Alicia and Blair Sandburg could all be construed as his doing alone. When Bradley bloomed into a fully formed sociopath, he hardly had time to pay attention to Alicia's increasing cycle of violence until it was too late.  Nor could Knowleton do anything to deter Lord Norman's ever-growing deviance once Lady Elizabeth had been completely removed.

 By then, he was so tainted by House Ventriss there was no way to extricate himself.  He would rise or fall with House Ventriss.

 Damn Steven Ellison.  Lord Norman's full crimes would warrant an AWP, but they never would have come to light without Steven putting the evidence right into Security Services' paws.  Seneschals had an unwritten code to watch each other's backs.  Steven wasn't a bad guy, he didn't bear any particular grudge against Knowleton, and he usually had his hands full managing that cutthroat father of his. Knowleton shook his head. There had to be some link between House Ellison and Sandburg, but he had confidence in his own research. He couldn't have missed something so obvious.  Whatever it was, it had to be a recent development.  He couldn't be expected to anticipate everything.  Not that logic ever held up Lord Norman from assigning blame for very long.

 "Gresham!  Can't you do anything about the temperature in here?"

 Knowleton cast a gaze to the heavens before composing himself, and turning to face his employer.  "Lord Ventriss, I believe there are some thermal sheets in the survival packs.  Shall I locate one for you?"

 "I was thinking more along the lines of activating the rear cabin enviro controls.  I see no reason to be so uncomfortable."

 "I'm afraid that's impossible, Lord Ventriss. This is a covert cargo area. It doesn't have sufficient sensor shielding or anything but the most basic systems for life support. If I activate our transport systems, it would immediately be detected by the Security Services overflights."

 "So my alternative to detention is to starve and freeze to death?  Honestly, Gresham, I expected better in terms of planning.  I barely had a crumb of breakfast before you dragged me off on this adventure."

 "The alternative was less haste and detention. It will be chill, Lord Ventriss, but not freezing.  The stores in the back bay aren't gourmet, but they will be filling."

 Lord Norman sighed theatrically.  "I suppose you expect me to find this dreck myself."

 "It would be very unwise for me to leave the monitors. If any break in the overflights appears, I'll take the opportunity to move us somewhere more secure, and infinitely more comfortable."

 Lord Norman moved off into the flyer, grumbling all the way. As soon as he was out of sight, Knowleton switched the monitors to scan in all directions at ground level. The overflights were a concern, but their subterranean lair was designed to evade Security Services sensors from above.  The real danger was from an entirely different source. 

 Smuggling was a tricky business, with no real loyalty on any side of the transaction.  Lord Norman never wanted to be apprised of any details, but most of his contraband items - the House antipersonnel electronics, certain specialty items which sated his more exotic sexual requirements - came through this location. The site was guarded zealously, but from a distance, by their collaborators, Trane and Lynch Gentry. As long as no delivery was scheduled, the site was deliberately kept deserted to minimize the chance of detection, guarded sparingly from a great distance and approached with great caution.

 If a smuggling operation was scheduled, their presence would be noticed.  Then they would need to make a run for it, no matter who or what was flying nearby. During daylight hours, Knowleton wasn't particularly worried.  The dead of night was still the time for smuggling.  He had other worries.  The minute the AWP had been issued, anyone monitoring the Security Services channels would know a hunt was on.  Security Services tended to be generous with their informants.  Knowleton had no doubt the treacherous Gentrys would be eager to hand over Ventriss for a sizable financial payout and some forgiveness on any outstanding charges.

 Knowleton looked darkly toward the ship. He had neglected to inform Lord Norman about his son's capture during the raid on the estate. Despite Lord Norman's indulgent attitude toward his son, Bradley would show no fidelity towards his sire. If it came to choices, and Security Services were closing in, the Gentrys weren't the only ones capable of cutting a deal.

 Gresham Knowleton was a firm believer in contingency plans. His options were closing, and not all of his included the continued protection of Ventriss, father and son.

 &&&&&

 The second bowl of soup was even better than the first.

 Jim gratefully chased the last spoonful. Having Sandburg sitting beside him at the table had made the whole taste thing decidedly less challenging. He'd nearly choked on the first spoonful, even though the smell had his mouth watering before he sat down. So frustrating! He'd let loose with a string of language he hadn't used since he left the military.  Other than the fact it may have added to Daryl's education, it wasn't a moment to be proud of.

 He was beginning to see the point of having a guide. Sandburg calmed him down, went back to the kid's flitter image along with a more subtle conversation about increments and conscious control of autonomic response.  Practice and refine was great as a concept, but damn, Jim just wanted to eat.  As much as he hated to admit it, the Sandburg gradual and patient approach was beating the Ellison brute strength and get on with it strategy.  The cautious tastes evolved into bites that eventually escalated to gulps.  Apparently, his stomach was finally catching up with the rest of him.  Jim was finally able to slow the chow line long enough to notice that Blair had abandoned his apple after a few bites. His guide was clearly growing restless. "Something bothering you, Chief?" he asked, and promptly helped himself to another chunk of bread.

 Blair looked down quickly.  "Sorry.  I was just distracted.  How are you doing?"

 "Considering I'm on second and third helpings, pretty good. You, on the other hand, look miserable."  Jim halted mid-chew.  Well, some Investigator he was.  Talk about egocentric. The answer was painfully obvious. "Chief, I think I'm over the hump here.  You want to look in on your Mother?"

 "Yes.  No. I mean, she's resting. We can finish the meal. Daryl had some awesome cookies. Ooops, I mean Officer Banks - "

 Jim stilled him with a gentling hand on his arm.  "I'm not going to choke to death over a bite of cookie. I think I have the drill if there's a problem. Go sit with her and I'll join you in a minute."

 Blair looked anxiously in the direction of the treatment suite, and shook his head.

 "Chief, I'll be fine.  I should have suggested it before I came in here and stuffed my face.  Go on." Jim waggled his fingers in dismissal. "Go, already."

 Daryl gleefully brought out the stash of cookies. Rhonda had lived up to her reputation. The pile was a veritable gold mine of culinary treats.  Jim snagged one off the top, laden with chocolate bits, a moment before Daryl could snatch the prize.  Score one for age and guile, and maybe sentinel senses, over youth and skill.  Laughing at each other's childish greed, they dug in, joshing each other about the days when a young Daryl Banks begged all manner of treats from his father's officers.

 Midway through his third cookie, Jim went very still. He was momentarily embarrassed to realize the sneaky sentinel senses had him eavesdropping on his guide. He'd been aware of the murmur of Blair's voice as he whispered to the unconscious Naomi without really attending to it.  Yet suddenly, Jim's entire attention was directed to a pinpoint several rooms away.

 Blair was singing, barely above a whisper, perhaps stroking Naomi's hand as he did. A tender voice, halting and broken occasionally with tears, fumbling on verses that dated back to pre-Collapse times.  The words stole Jim's breath away, taken by the memory of his mother's voice, singing him off to sleep in a darkened room that wasn't really dark, many years earlier…

_When you wish upon a star_

_Makes no difference who you are_

_Anything your heart desires_

_Will come to you_

_If your heart is in your dream_

_No request is too extreme_

_When you wish upon a star_

_As dreamers do._

 

 &&&&&

Steven Ellison left Major Incident and went immediately to his private offices.  Despite his many responsibilities to House Ellison, his father had always encouraged the odd independent venture.  He'd started his first solo endeavor in his early twenties, importing high credit furnishings from Province Scandia in Europa when everyone, including Lord William, advised against it because of the transport expense.   Now, twelve years later, it was still one of his most successful businesses. 

 As his father had stipulated in the very beginning, none of his efforts outwardly bore the Ellison name.  Whatever failings Lord William had as a father, he understood the value of learning through experience, both through success and failure, without either the burden or boon of the House Ellison designation.  Steven was grateful. He'd had a few setbacks, but overall, was quietly successful in his own right.  It saddened him, but if his father chose to follow through on his threats, he had the means to lead a comfortable life without the megacredits of House Ellison.

 It was physically painful to contemplate the moment he'd placed his Seneschal's device before his father, without so much as a flicker of response.  In Ancient Scripture, Abraham had been prepared to sacrifice his only son.  William Ellison was apparently willing to sacrifice two. In this as in all things, his father was always a bit of an overachiever.  Steven didn't regret his stand.  If he was to have a life outside House Ellison, at least it would be a life he could be proud of.

 With swift efficiency, he contacted the House Ellison credit managers, transferring his personal finances from the combined House accounts.  He tactfully avoided the inevitable questions.  This was a private matter.  His father could make whatever explanations he chose, and Lord William was never inclined toward providing explanations to anyone.  In truth, one of his basic precepts was that action was always preferable to explanation. It was totally within his father's character to say nothing at all.

 By the time he was finished and back in the flyer, Jim had forwarded a secure burst transmission.  He was at the safe house.  Jim felt Blair Sandburg was doing as well as could be expected. Naomi Sandburg's condition was apparently grave, and the medical personnel were expected back to deliver a detailed report.  Jim wasn't optimistic and asked Steven to research alternative medical personnel if it was needed.

 If only all the items on his list were so simple.

 Since the flyer still bore House markings, he ascended to the flyway.  Might as well enjoy it for now.  Soon enough he'd be fighting the congestion with the rest of the citizens, or horror of horrors, riding a public tram.  Steven found the entire idea outrageously funny.  He'd never even possessed so much as a transport warrant.  He knew as much about citizen transport as he did about writing poetry or dancing on the head of a pin.

 With the most critical tasks completed or underway, Steven allowed himself to consider more personal consequences of the last few days.  Kimiko. He would need to contact Kimiko. The thought of her brought him his first real moment of regret.  After Jim's disaster with Carolyn, he'd been very reluctant to consider a permanent match, and had refused all of his father's suggestions for a match.  Recently, he'd been seeing Kimiko Akiyama with more serious intentions.  He'd spoken to her father in general terms, although not to his own.  Steven's strategy in dealing with his domineering parent was to only fight battles that were absolutely necessary.   In totally predictable fashion, when Steven had escorted Kimiko to the last Governor's Ball,  William had voiced the opinion that his son and seneschal could do better than some bookish girl from a second tier House.

Negotiating with Lord Akiyama was child's play compared to having a serious conversation with his father.

Kimi had been a childhood friend rediscovered, a brilliant biogeneticist in her own right, balancing a teaching appointment at Rainier with work in the House Akiyama biotech enterprises. Her life choices stood in stark contrast with the typical First Daughter of a House.  Lord William's assessment concerned Steven not in the least.  In his opinion, most of the Founding Fifty Houses were dangerously inbred in both attitude and biology.  The Ventriss family was just one case in point.  He had no intention of choosing a life partner from any similarly treacherous gene pool. Kimi was an unconventional breath of fresh air.

In any case, she had the right to know his current circumstances.  Steven didn't believe Kimi's affections were dependent on his status as potential heir-elect, but it would be unfair to conceal the change from her.  He keyed in an autoapproach, leaned against the seat webbing and closed his eyes.  It had been a long time since he'd really slept.  Now that the flurry of activity was over, fatigue was finally appearing like an ominous blood moon over the horizon.  The flyer settled gracefully into the docking clamps.  Steven stepped out into the landing bay - and froze.

The door seals on the entrance had been breached. A quick glance at the concealed monitor confirmed what he feared - that someone had violated the sanctity of his home - and was still present.

 &&&&&

 "He'll have to be removed.  I see no other possible course of action." Lord Martin Harcourt's face was decidedly pale.  "You say Steven brought this vid to your attention?  Steven and James?"

"James came forward under the aegis of House Privilege. We don't have long to take action, or the Province will." William said, mimicking Lord Martin's horrified tones.  It was always easier to manipulate Martin when you could ostensibly join him in an idea. He had no intention of revealing to his fellow members of the Council of Lords of his own rift with both of his sons.

Lord Martin shook his head in apparent disbelief. "First Plummer, now this. I'm uncomfortable with these situations, and all the hasty decisions, William.  We've already removed Connal.  It makes the Houses look unstable to have one crisis after another."

 _The Houses don't look unstable, they are unstable, you fool._ Lord William did not give voice to that thought. He kept an expression of concerned regret on his face.  Better to let Lord Martin ramble on, feigning agreement, and then press him into the correct decision.

"Let's just censure him, and ask the Governor to squelch the Law and Justice proceedings.  We can assure him privately what the eventual outcome will be," Lord Martin suggested.  "Surely that will suffice."  Martin Harcourt's expression hovered between horrified and hopeful.

 _Oh, but it won't.  James will see to it._ "Martin, there is no possibility this will not become public.  The Governor has already agreed.  The outcome of a public proceeding will be unpredictable. We need to protect our position before any revelations are shared with the citizen populace. We cannot dither over this, Martin. We need to take highly visible action within the next few hours."

"Well, that's just impossible," Lord Martin said dismissively. 

"Nothing is impossible," William said firmly. Now was the time to press to the inevitable decision.  "It is our duty to protect the standing of the entire community, and our relationship with the Province.

"William, if I call two emergency meetings within a single week, much less a few days, the others will be outraged.  I can't drag them in again on a moment's notice."

William forced himself to sip his coffee calmly. _Of course you won't summon them. I've already done that for you. You're just the window dressing._ "There are possibilities, and then there are necessities, Martin.  It was necessary to excise Connal Plummer.  It is now necessary to excise Norman Ventriss like the cancer he is."

"There must be some other way …" Lord Martin was practically wringing his hands.

"One look at the vid evidence will silence any protest from our fellow Council members.  Name one of our peers willing to be associated with that - travesty."

"Won't we look hysterical, moving so quickly? It belies our historical position as the ultimate stabilizing influence in governance.  We founded Cascade Province.  It's our place to lead, not be dominated by events."

"The French Revolution and the African Climate Riots started over less.  Would you prefer to appear hysterical or deal with mass civil unrest?  Martin, we're just two generations beyond defending our estates with private militia.  Are you prepared to repel a mob from your doors, Martin?  Are the others?"

"The Province will keep order," Lord Martin declared, but his tone was tinged with doubt.

"With whom?  Who forms the ranks of Security Services?  Citizens, Martin, Citizens.  Law and Justice?  Citizens. Ultimately, we lead Provincial society with their consent. We abandoned Connal Plummer because there was no way to defend his actions, even though we know he's a fool and probably manipulated into a compromising position.  Norman's behavior is even more inflammatory, and he is culpable.  The only sure way to control Citizen rage is to emasculate it. Silence protest before it starts."

"It's too soon, too precipitous.  Something gradual -"

 "History teaches us this lesson very clearly, Martin. We teach this precept to each successive generation so we don't repeat the mistakes of our ancestors." William caught Lord Martin's elbow, projecting a regretful empathy he didn't feel.  "There is no other alternative.  We must act, and act definitively, with haste."

 Lord Martin flopped back in his chair. Still clad in gardening coveralls, he looked ridiculously inadequate seated at William's gleaming conference table. "All right. We'll do it." He shook his head in despair. "Even with such a dramatic gesture, we'll be hard pressed to keep the Province from confiscating the property from either House Plummer or House Ventriss.  Such a demand has precedent.  I don't want those holdings to slip out of Founding Fifty control."

 "Precisely,"  William said.  _And you desperately want some of that ground for yourself. Are you truly just putting these pieces together?  "_ It's in the interests of all of us to announce clear inheritance at the same time we strip Connal and Norman of their positions."

Lord Martin picked at a thread on his coverall sleeve. "Well, I'm sure you're correct.  Let's call the Council, get the sons of both House Plummer and House Ventriss in here, and elevate them immediately.  Get it done in one fell swoop.  We won't let anyone dwell on the scandalous nature of all this. Everyone rallies for an Investiture, after all."

William steepled his fingers before his chin. Martin had finally taken the critical step first all on his own.  Lovely. Now he would only have to guide the subsequent steps in the desired direction.  "That won't be possible either, Martin."

"What?!" Lord Martin shouted, nearly upsetting his tea in the process.  "But you said -"

 William lowered his voice as if he were divulging the greatest of secrets.  "James brought other critical information which is equally disturbing. The detention teams may have missed Norman, but Heir-elect Bradley Ventriss is currently incarcerated."

"No!  In the name of the ancestors, why?"

"The least of many charges will be attacking a Security Services Investigator, a little indiscretion which is on vid and beyond dispute.  He's been dropped from this year's graduation cadre from the Guide Institute at Rainier for falsifying his final project.  There will be more, far more serious charges.  An earlier murder investigation is being reactivated as we speak.  Imagine the damage if we elevate a suspected or convicted felon to House leadership to replace his disgraced father.  It's unthinkable."

 Lord Martin slapped an open hand on the table so hard his delicate china teacup rattled.  "The boy should have been taken in hand!  It's inexcusable.  How could Norman have been so stupid?  It's his responsibility as Head of House to provide a competent heir, ready to assume control."

 "That's not all.  We have no viable alternative to Bradley.  The only other direct blood heir immediately available is Alicia. You remember Alicia, don't you, Martin?"  William worked hard not to smile at such a ridiculous rhetorical question.  Everyone remembered Alicia.

 Lord Martin physically recoiled at the mere mention of her name.  "That blighted child? The girl should have been forcibly secluded before puberty.  She set fire to my horse stables before the age of twelve, you know." Lord Martin was finally out of his chair, pacing.  "Norman was derelict in his duty to House Ventriss.  To all of us."

 "A little childhood arson will pale in comparison to attempting to murder her guide, the son of that poor woman on the vid. Norman defied us and enabled her to the very last.  Can you imagine? Bradley picked up where Alicia left off and exploited the young man shamelessly to falsify his work at Rainier. It's all going to come out. The entire bloodline is bereft."

 Lord Martin was clearly shocked.  "William, does this nightmare ever end? How can we move swiftly with this level of disruption in the bloodline?  We have to examine the alternatives.  Research the secondary heirs."

 "If we do not proceed immediately, the consequences of delay are even more dire."  _Go ahead, Martin.  Wring your hands a bit longer, and then I'll throw you a lifeline._

 "Fine.  Fine. We break House Ventriss. The bloodline is apparently beyond redemption,  but surely we can elevate someone in the Plummer succession line.  Shame about the brothers.  I didn't really see Carolyn as a long term solution, but circumstances have overtaken us.  She seemed an able young woman, and she certainly has presence.  We can work with the situation, and supervise her actions from behind the scenes after her elevation."

 William took care to adopt a posture of distressed concern. "Unfortunately, that obvious path is no longer available to us."

 "What!?  But I thought you supported her!""

 "I treated her as a daughter, but she betrayed my trust.  James has spared us again, Martin.  Carolyn will not survive the Connal Plummer investigation.  There is clear evidence she knew of her father's activities. When we handed temporary control to her, she used our trust to impede the investigation.  Hid evidence, diverted funds."  James had said no such thing, of course, but that was hardly the point.  In coming to enlist House Ellison in her schemes to snatch Blair Sandburg, Carolyn had revealed more than intended.  William had discovered plenty of proof within the credit accounts.  If Security Services hadn't found the evidence yet, William was perfectly capable of providing a bit of added direction.  It suited his purposes to remove Carolyn, and by doing so, terminate her already tenuous connection to House Ellison.

"This just gets worse," Lord Martin exclaimed. "We'll have to revert to Gerald, even if he is unprepared for leadership.  Connal never spent a lot of time preparing the next generation. Not a bright boy, but he has a pleasant manner.  We can make a show of penalizing the House.  Fines. Confiscation of some lands, that sort of thing."

  _Yes, Martin.  You finally realized where that easement you want is going to come from. Too bad for Gerald I have other ideas._ "I'm afraid Gerald is not the answer.  He doesn't have the intelligence or the character to rebuild the House or to stand up to his sister, even when we move against her."

"But who's left?  Philip, the second son?  I don't know, William. It's unprecedented, to dismiss both Heir-elect and Seneschal."

"Make your own judgement, Martin." William shook his head, as if it had been a heavy burden to bear.  "In light of the damning evidence from James, I felt it expedient to move quickly. I sent House Ellison guards and directed Philip to make himself immediately available.  I have done some preliminary questioning of the young man. I believe you'll be impressed."

On cue, Philip Plummer entered the room, and executed a perfect bow to Harcourt.  "Lord Martin. I am grateful to have this opportunity to speak with you."

Lord Martin threw a sideways glance at William, partially realizing how carefully this had been orchestrated. William smile benignly. He could outmaneuver Lord Martin all day long.  "Well, you're here," Harcourt said grudgingly.  "Make your case, boy."

Philip had obviously taken the hours to prepare more than just his appearance.  His address to Harcourt was confident without being arrogant.  He managed to appear wise beyond his years, with a desirable blend of intelligence and humility.  As William had expected, he was everything his more glamorous siblings were not. If anything, he harkened back to his grandfather, a wily old buzzard who had unfortunately endowed his son, Connal, with none of his strengths. Connal harkened after the female line, much to the detriment of the House.

William settled back, content to watch. Harcourt would agree, and the rest of the Council would fall into line.  Philip would be told at a later time just how much his debt to House Ellison would cost.  More importantly, William could redeem himself with his alienated sons through concrete action, which was infinitely more appealing than apologizing for his harsh words.

 &&&&&

The Major Incident team assembled as per orders. As each entered, Captains Taggert and Banks quietly insisted each eat and drink before any serious discussion of the case was allowed.  Megan entertained them with a comical description of Bradley Ventriss' Civilian Advocate - or more correctly, Advocates, plural.  Prosecutor Sanchez, erring on the side of caution, had arranged for two C.A.s to attend their new detainee. 

"Ventriss doesn't really get the idea that no one else is coming to the rescue.  Sanchez is going to have to come up with extra credits to make the advocates stick it out. They like me way better than their client."  The room erupted in another ripple of laughter. Rafe nearly choked on his sandwich and had to endure a resounding thump between the shoulders from his partner.

 "Seriously, I'm their new best friend," Megan continued.  "They both asked for  a protection detail. I think they're as afraid of having Bradley out roaming around as they are of losing his case. In fact, I think they see losing as the preferable outcome.  They were practically shaking with fear when we finally sent that blight on society back to his detention cell."

"Did you tell Sanchez?" Taggert asked. "We don't want to deal with appeals based on inadequate defense."

"I told her.  Beverly said she'd speak with them.  She thinks he'll tone it down after a few days of detention food and a few nights of peaceful slumber in a detention sleeping berth."

"How's the preparation of the case? She still dragging her feet?"

"Minister Stoddard has her totally charmed. His information is golden. He spent most of the day helping her staff research the Guide and Sentinel Services files."

"Can she issue an order for Chancellor Edwards?" Banks asked.

 "On that point she's still reluctant.  Minister Stoddard arranged for her to meet someone from the University."  Megan took a moment to refer to her notes.  "A Professor Okalu.  Apparently she took Minister Stoddard's position when he resigned in protest. She now heads the Guide and Sentinel Programs at Rainier.  Stoddard feels she could supply a lot of needed verification.  I'm still hopeful."

"Make sure you sit in on the interview," Taggert directed.  "You know things Prosecutor Sanchez and Minister Stoddard don't.  We're searching for those areas of overlap that give us a break in the case.  If we can bring Edwards in, it's possible we can get her competing with Ventriss junior and senior to cut a deal, not that I'm willing to let any of them off the hook. Rafe, update on the yield from the Ventriss estate."

Rafe sighed.  "Where there's smoke, there's fire.  I'd expect House files to be encrypted,  but based on the difficulty we're having, my take is that Lord Norman has a lot to hide.  Science Services shifted some personnel from other cases.  They realize we need a lot to make a case against a sitting Head of House. We're getting help from neighboring Provinces so we can keep full pressure on the Plummer - Kincaid case along with Ventriss.  Steven Ellison sent one of House Ellison records experts to pitch in.  Eventually, I think we'll poke a hole in the encryption protocol and get everything."

"Stay with it, Rafe.  Everyone's nervous about pressing forward. The more we have, the more willingness we're going to get."

"Yes, Captain.  I'll have summaries ready for everyone tomorrow.  As you say, it's going to take more than my eyes to spot all the interlocking connections."

Captain Banks pulled up a projection of the area around the Ventriss estate.  The room quieted while the data from the planetary location monitors and the search grids were displayed.

"It doesn't make sense," Taggert murmured. "A transport that size can't just vanish."

"What about cloaking?" Rafe asked. "The military would have a fit, but is there any possibility they got their hands on the technology?"

Taggert frowned.  "You're right, the military would have a fit, but we can ask. I'll draft a formal Breach of Secrecy request.  My understanding is that the technology is limited to ships with a larger profile."

"Plummer got a sonic cannon.  Is it any more or less likely that Ventriss could get cloaking?" Megan asked.  "This case makes me sick.  Is there anything these people can't buy?"

"Us," Banks said firmly. "Now I want no debate on this. Everyone go home and get some rest. This is going to take a sustained effort, and I need you sharp.  No sneaking back to put in extra time.  I mean it." He gave everyone in the room a look that meant he was serious.  "Tomorrow morning, people.  We'll keep at it."

The room quickly cleared, except for Henri Brown, who remained seated, staring at the geographic projection of the fruitless search for Lord Ventriss.  "Got something in mind, H?" Banks asked, sliding into the seat next to him.

"Maybe," he answered in a preoccupied voice. "Captains, I think we should activate our snitch network again, especially in the Boundary."

"You have something in mind, son?" Taggert asked.

"Been a while since I worked that area, Sir, but there were always rumors. Lynch Gentry was involved in Sandburg's snatch off the loop transport.   There might be something there, maybe some overlap between Gentry and Ventriss."

"How so?" Banks asked. 

"The Gentry smuggling operation was and is the best of the bunch.  There was always speculation about how they could bring in large shipments of contraband. Some of the rumors hinted Lynch Gentry had a hidden smuggling site for big payloads.  I heard more than one whisper about an underground dock, somewhere a ship could just drop off the sensors."

"Damn," Banks whispered. "That would explain a lot. Joel, what do you think?"

"I think S.I. Brown may have something," Taggert said softly. "I like that explanation better than cloaking.  Question is, how do we look for the invisible?  If they're beating the sensors, more sensor equipment isn't the answer."

"Underground makes the most sense." Banks suddenly broke into a grin. "We need a dirt and rock person. I wonder if our good Eli Stoddard knows anyone like that?"

&&&&&

Jim watched the external monitors as the incoming shift of protection personnel took their positions.  He'd requested the additional protection, and Simon Banks had agreed.  Norman Ventriss wasn't in custody.  The short encounter with his father had brought a fresh awareness of what an aristocratic house was capable of.  If Naomi and Blair Sandburg were to disappear, or be coerced into silence, all of Lord Norman's problems would likewise vanish.  Assaults on Security Services facilities were rare but not unknown.  It wasn't worth the risk to be unprepared.

Daryl Banks was now off duty, but at Simon's request, would be staying until his father arrived.  Satisfied with the protection deployment, Jim headed back to the sitting room of the safe house.  During the next few hours, a veritable stream of Cascade Provincial officialdom would pass through these doors.  Apparently everyone who was anyone had an excuse for a sitdown with the new sentinel S.I. Ellison. 

Jim planned to take advantage of the private moments with his guide while he could, for both personal and professional reasons. He hovered near his guide at Naomi Sandburg's side for nearly an hour.  Blair's anguish was palpable, the moment painfully private, but Jim felt compelled to pad silently into the darkened room and remain.  He'd chosen a position a few steps away, just close enough for Blair to be aware of his presence.  Blair had promptly motioned him forward to sit close and melted his back against Jim's chest, apparently drawing some comfort from the nearness of someone he trusted.

Jim normally would have resisted.  In this instance, he had no hesitation.

Although Naomi - how odd it seemed to hear someone refer to a parent by their first name - was deep in medisleep, Blair spoke and sang to her.  He reminisced to her, recounting story after story, memory after memory.  Jim glimpsed a life shockingly different from his own. The life journey of Blair and Naomi Sandburg had been a long series of arrivals and leave-takings, friends met followed by inevitable separation, few material comforts coupled with boundless enthusiasm for the next adventure.  Naomi fully embraced Terra Natura and a life of self-fulfillment. Jim never detected any mention of family. 

Such a contrast.  Jim's life had been dominated by family bloodline, tradition, and a formality apparently foreign to the man next to him.  He wondered how one such as his guide could develop any sense of self and place from such a rootless existence.  Despite his doubts, Jim saw through Blair's eyes an enchanted existence, Naomi's bright spirit, her unconventional zest for life, her passionate beliefs, and a depthless love for her son.  Jim, who had experienced so much distance and hurt from his own family, felt his guide's suffering keenly in a way that was raw and confusing.

At some point, Jim realized that Blair's grief over his mother's condition was translating into physical stress.  The soft, husky rasping in his lungs was more noticeable. The nearness of his body felt steamy and then unexplainably chilled.  When Jim rested his hands on his guide's shoulders, the muscles seemed to vibrate under his hand. The sensations were terribly disconcerting.  Jim was starting to worry about his own stability when it dawned on him that sentinel senses were at work. Those huge spasms under his palms were actually tiny twitches, undetectable to anyone else.

As much as the sensory input baffled him, he was certain when Blair's energy really began to flag.  He waited as long as he could, and then felt compelled to intervene. Leaning forward, Jim whispered softly into the smaller man's ear.  "Hey, Chief, can you come?  We're expecting visitors."  Blair blinked owlishly, his vision blurred by the sensor lights that Jim realized he was compensating for.  With one final squeeze of his mother's hand, he wrapped his hand in the fabric of Jim's shirt and allowed himself to be led out of the medical suite.

They settled in a small sitting alcove, away from the other security staff who circulated, each with an appointed task. Communications were delivered and sent, the perimeter monitored for intruders.  Both men knew they had so much to talk about, yet Blair seemed worn beyond making the effort, and Jim didn't know enough to start.

 Diwa and Cameron had advised him to trust his instincts. It was a weak reed, but it was all Jim had.  He was ignorant of the dynamics, but the headache he'd nursed throughout the day ebbed away in Blair's focused presence.  Blair's skills were obvious.  He was reassuring and calm, settling Jim's obvious nerves with explanations that were thorough but not overwhelming.  Coffee unbearably bitter? Solved by taking a portion of warmed milk and adding coffee to it, increasing each time Jim's sense of taste managed to adjust.  When the texture of the bread felt like mush and set him to gagging, Blair swapped it out for toast and the meal continued.  When Daryl brought a variety of salty crisp bread and nuts for a snack, Blair broke complicated foods into their components that were simple enough for Jim to handle. They worked on the concept of moderating a particular sense.

Jim wondered if his new guide felt as overwhelmed and inadequate as he did.

 Eventually, they switched roles.  Blair needed to be debriefed.  With Daryl serving as the official charged with documentation, Jim talked Blair through his ordeal alone, beginning with his flight from the hospital.  His humiliation by Lord William's sudden appearance and dismissal had Jim seething. He stifled a geyser of anger toward his parent and kept Blair talking.

 Jim knew from experience that giving this kind of witness testimony took concentration and energy.  A quick glance at the food prep area was enough for Daryl to keep up a steady stream of continuing snacks; sliced fruit, sweet cookies, chunks of cheese, more roasted nuts.  Blair's reaction to such simple treats drove home what Daryl had tried to share with Jim earlier.  Compared to Blair's spartan existence under the thumb of the Ventriss family, even the simplest items seemed like luxuries to him.

 Finally, as the formal portion of the session wound down, Jim could hold his tongue no longer.  "Chief, you knew how I felt.  I wanted you as a guide.  Simon was right there to hear me, and he was at the Sentinel Care Center. Why? Why did you let my father drive you away?  Why did you leave?"

"Jim - I -"  Blair closed his eyes, unable to bear the scrutiny. "I didn't dare believe that I could really be your guide.  I told myself every minute that no matter how right it felt, it was just a moment." He looked heartbroken. "It wasn't a rejection. It might have killed me, but I had your best interests in mind.  Jim, your father wasn't entirely wrong.  You deserved a full selection protocol.  I'm not the best, not now." 

"You really thought you had no chance? Didn't you think we'd protect you, Chief?"

"It wasn't a lack of trust in you, Jim. Chancellor Edwards was a direct pipeline to Lord Norman.  The moment she arrived, anything I did put my mother in danger.  As soon as she spoke to him, I knew what he'd do. I couldn't fight them with that hanging over my head.  The only way I could protect Naomi was to be invisible.  I had to leave you and disappear.  Once I was off in Cascade, even though I knew I was in trouble, I had no way to reach out and get help.  Even if I had been able to make it to the door of Security Services, who would have believed my story?"

"He's right, Jim," Daryl said. "No citizen documents. No credits.  Practically dressed in rags, and ill to boot. No street officer would have thought twice.  They certainly wouldn't have let him into Security Headquarters."

Jim wanted to be sick himself.  Wasn't that Provincial society in a nutshell? Observe and slap on a label, and that label determined everything you were entitled or subject to.   He'd spent a good deal of time shedding his own labels, bestowed merely by being born to a particular set of parents. Blair's reasoning made sense. Horrible and tragic, but there was a certain logic to it.  He had made the best of a host of bad choices. Jim rubbed at his forehead, wishing he could scrub away it all away.  "Let's take a break for a minute." 

Daryl dutifully recorded the time for the record. When he looked up, he blurted out the question that Jim had longed to ask, but hadn't. "Blair, why didn't Ventriss just kill you?"

 "I'm not sure," Blair said in a halting voice. "Maybe for revenge. Maybe to reestablish a sense of power."  He looked away. "It shames me, but I think the real reason is he thought he could use me.  I was a convenience for Bradley's training.  Occasionally, he dragged me in, gave me a script and recorded my voice.  I think he was using it with Alicia."

 "Doesn't make sense," Jim said. "According to Sentinel Services, her psychosis forced them to keep her sedated.  She'd have no use for a guide."

 "I can only tell you what I feel. I don't have any proof. I think there's more going on with Alicia than existing in a coma."  He turned to Jim, the apprehension in his voice clear.  "I hope I never see her again.  Ever.  I don't think I could bear it."

"Even without scruples, what could Ventriss possibly do?" asked Daryl.

"I don't like to think about that," Blair said. "No matter what he did, or what I imagined him doing, Lord Norman always seemed to move beyond my worst expectations."  His blue eyes seemed to lose focus, as if staring at an object on the far horizon. "I don't think I'll ever really be free of him.  Not as long as he still lives and breathes."  He started to bolt, heading for the privacy of his suite.  His knees gave way after the first few steps. Jim lunged to catch him, managing to halt his fall but not his agonized sob.

&&&&&

Liam Kelly slammed a fist against the nearest object. So Security Services had reinforced the safe house before he could execute a raid.  He stared at the assembled men and arms gathered around him. "Stand down, men. A full double detail just deployed at our target.  We'll have to regroup."

One of the recent recruits, obviously full of himself, shook his discharge weapon in the air.  "We can do it!  What are we waiting for?"

"That's enough!" Kelly said sharply. "Until we bring in more manpower from the associate Brigades, we can't afford to waste the men we have. Return to your billets, and stay alert. You'll be contacted as soon as we're ready to move."

He watched the men file out.  Bravado aside, things were going to get tricky. It was always easier to keep the ranks disciplined and focused while an operation was going down. Idle time provided too much opportunity to think, to speculate.  Sooner or later, some weak soul would decide that the Patriot Brigade wasn't going to come out on top and act accordingly.

They needed a new plan, and fast.  Kelly didn't want to face Garrett Kincaid without Ellison's head on a platter.  Kincaid had a tendency to feed his failures to the nearest pack of wolves.

Liam Kelley didn't intend to be the next sacrifice.

&&&&&

Steven cautiously entered his main living quarters, eternally grateful Jim had insisted he keep three of the Security Services issue stun pods.  He fingered them in his pocket, poised to snatch them out and use them against the intruder that had violated his home.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw motion and ducked just in time to avoid a heavy crystal vase headed his direction.  It shattered against the wall behind him.

"Carolyn!  Are you out of your mind?"

"You bastard.  You Ellison men are all the same."

This was not the polished Carolyn Plummer he might expect. Her clothing was rumpled, her hair unkempt, shoved back carelessly away from her face.  "What are you raving about?  I haven't done anything to you.  Get out of my home."  Steven's eyes went wide when he realized Carolyn was holding a discharge pistol against her side.  First Connal, now Carolyn.  By the ancestors, was this some deviant anomaly in the Plummer genetic profile?

He was in trouble, and he knew it. Why hadn't he called House Security as soon as he'd realized the door seals had been breached? Her weapon had a greater effective range than the stun pod concealed in his hand.  He either needed to get closer, or get away entirely. Neither possibility seemed very likely. Unsure of his next move, he folded his arms and tried to look bored, on the assumption that a display of fear would only embolden the woman before him.

"Your exalted father won't see me. The snake, after he greeted me as family just days ago.  Does he have Sandburg? I should have known he'd double cross me."  Her hand was shaking violently.  Steven's stomach flipped, but he disciplined himself into stillness.  At this point, she'd probably blow him to bits by accident.

"Carolyn, if you think I have any influence over Lord William Ellison, you really have lost your mind." Steven crossed to the bar, pretending to ignore the unstated threat of the weapon.  "I washed my hands of the whole venture. Using the guide to blackmail James? You of all people should know that trying to manipulate James is a mistake.  In case you've forgotten, he's not the kind of man that bends to a threat."

"I have rights as a consort!" Carolyn shrieked. "He had to listen to me once I got his attention.  With the guide, he would have listened to me!  There would have been no stopping us."

 _No stopping you, you treacherous bitch._ Steven reminded himself sternly that this was a negotiation, like any other.  Hadn't the exalted Lord William spent a lifetime training him for these moments? "Carolyn, you haven't been consort to House Ellison since the seals were broken, by Jim, in your presence and before witnesses.  Years. By the ancestors, accept it and move on. And put that ridiculous weapon down before you hurt someone."

Carolyn's hand dropped limply to her side, but she still had the ominous metal object firmly in her grasp.  "Where's Philip?  You know, don't you?  I know you're plotting something.  That's always the way with you Ellisons.  Say one thing and do another."

"What do you mean, where's Philip?" Steven didn't have to mimic confusion. "I don't know. I try to keep my distance from anything Plummer for my own safety.  Did you ask Melissa?"  _She's the only one of the whole bunch I'd trust._

"Melissa," Carolyn snapped contemptuously. "As if that inconsequential female fluff would have anything useful to say."

Steven rolled his eyes.  The entire House Plummer should be locked up in some isolated location to protect the rest of the Province.  Well, all of them except Melissa.  How had the poor girl ever survived family relations like this banshee?  "Carolyn, by the ancestors, go home.  If you can't find Philip, darken Gerald's door and yell at him."

"Gerald's missing, too."

She sounded like a petulant child. Amusing, but also a weakness. Steven jumped to exploit the opening. "You usurp the line of succession and you're surprised?  Did you really expect them to sit by, especially Gerald, and allow you to take the position he's been expecting all his life?  I always knew you were arrogant, but that's a bit much, even for you."

"You and your father are helping them," she said, her eyes blazing.  "You know what's going on."

"I can't speak for Father, but I don't know a thing. If they've both dropped out of sight, you can expect some organized opposition.  I'd seriously consider an extended trip abroad until the situation resolves itself.  Either way, I have nothing to tell you, and if you're not out of here in thirty seconds, Ellison House Security is going to bust in here on your head."  He almost laughed at her shocked face.  "I sent the call signal as soon as I got over here.   They show up unless I issue a call back, and you'll have to go ahead and shoot me before that happens.  Plan your next shakedown a little more carefully.  It's not a good idea to let your victim move around once you have the drop on them."

Carolyn raised the discharge pistol. Steven closed the gap, ready to stun if he needed to.  His first preference was to bluff.  "Twenty seconds, Carolyn.  Go."

With a frustrated cry, she fled.  Steven sank into the nearest chair, wondering if House Security would actually answer his call now that he was persona non grata. Damn.  Jim might do this kind of thing all the time, but he definitely wasn't cut out for this shit.

&&&&&

Lord Martin Harcourt, still garbed in his gardening coverall, called the Council of Lords to order.  Lord Daniel Ferrer and Lord Gregory Wylie arrived together, having been summoned from a luncheon neither seemed willing to discuss. Lord Lawrence Northbrook, of an age with William Ellison, complained bitterly about the interruption of his tennis game, one he no doubt had arranged to win. 

They assembled in the center of the formal ballroom. Ellison household staff had arranged beautifully carved antique walnut chairs around a low circular table of similar style. The circle was an unbreakable custom of the Council of Lords.  Their charge was to gather as equals, to act in the best interests of all of their class. Ellison House Security closed access to the room, and Harcourt personally activated the scrubbers that would keep their deliberations strictly private.

Harcourt opted for the same strategy Lord William had chosen earlier in the day.  In a grouping of strong willed men accustomed to directing others, it was a tad difficult to ignore the demands for explanation and proceed.  Without comment, William activated the accursed evidence vid, which quickly silenced the questions.  In the midst of the sordid presentation, Lord Daniel Ferrer, a genuinely good and decent man, managed to escape the room in time to be violently ill in the reception hall.

Hopefully the century-old Hereke silk rug would clean.

Between them, Harcourt and Lord William summarized the options.  They were as bleak the second time around as the first.  The good citizens of Cascade would be outraged.  The backlash against the Houses was a Pandora's Box no one dared to unlock. Harcourt and Ellison made a strong case for preemptive action.

Looking pale and drawn, Lord Ferrer made the first objection.  "Two houses in less than a week?  Forget the populace. We'll have the rest of the Houses at our throats.  It's an unprecedented use of our authority, and they'll accuse us of being power mad. I could make a case for being more - deliberative."

"An excellent point.  Our peers deserve a full explanation.  I suggest that as soon as we finalize and execute our plans, we bring the other Heads of House in immediately and show them what you've just viewed," Lord William said.  "Do you really think they'll object in the face of - that abomination?"

"It's wise to involve the other Heads of House. House Ventriss should be broken. Of that there is no doubt," Lord Gregory Wylie ventured.  His tone was cautious, but his next statements were not.  "As there are no viable heirs, we must be unequivocal. Bradley and Alicia are clearly unacceptable, and the cousins in the line are hardly suitable representatives of an aristocratic bloodline. Moreover, breaking the House is a clear display of our intention to make right the wrongs.  The real question is what to do with House Plummer." He raised his eyes ever so slightly, catching Lord William's eye.  It was a subtle gesture, but Lord William received the message.  Philip had acted on his suggestions.  His joined partner, Melissa, had undoubtedly appealed on her chosen's behalf.  Her uncle agreed, knew the plan, and accepted his role.

An additional covert ally would bring the others into line. 

Lord William made the next careful thrust. "For our own people, and the citizen population of Cascade, we must appear to have the situation well in hand. Our safety is assured by convincing our good citizens that we are shocked by such conduct, and willing to act for the common good.  We must clearly signal that we have not forgotten our role to provide leadership for the benefit and peaceful existence of all.  This is our historic duty, and our historic right." 

"I agree," Lord Northbrook said. Again, the slight signal of agreement. Another secret ally. Philip's timely efforts were really quite commendable.

All Lord William had to do was continue the thought. "We cannot allow the Plummer siblings to wrestle for control.  The delay will only encourage speculation and criticism, both inside our own ranks and among the citizens.  It undermines any claim we have toward good governance.  Connal Plummer joined forces with a known dissident to commit treason of the worst sort.  Lives were lost. We should not appear hesitant or reluctant."

"Treason with a sonic cannon," Lord Ferrer said, shaking his head.  "The very essence of an immoral weapon.  Maximum casualties among non-combatants.  What was he thinking?"

"It doesn't matter what that idiot Connal was thinking, as long as the rest of Cascade is convinced the rest of us weren't thinking it with him," Lord William said sharply.

"So Connal goes, and we usher in a new Head of House.  William, is Carolyn truly tainted?" Lord Northbrook asked.

"If you doubt our insider sources within the Security Services, consider how quickly she came to us, begging for our support against her father.  Neither of her brothers did so.  What other conclusion can we draw?"  How pleasing to turn Carolyn's preemptive actions toward her brothers against her own efforts. William appreciated the irony.

"So she knew," Lord Northbrook said, shaking his head.  "There's no other conclusion.  Quite the actress, that one.  She had me convinced."

Lord William hadn't expected such a well-placed lead, and didn't waste it.  "I can speak volumes about Lady Carolyn's deceptions.  I lost my elder son because of her."  Perfect.  An open declaration of distance between House Ellison and Carolyn Plummer at this point was a gift.  He glanced at Lord Wylie. Would he pick up the torch for his niece?  It would be more convincing if William didn't have to push the plan forward himself.

Wylie followed through, right on cue. William couldn't have orchestrated better with a week of rehearsals.  "If you think about it, Gerald is almost as unacceptable as Carolyn. The man's indiscretions are common knowledge, and he's the spitting image of his father.  If we parade him out as the new Head of House, the civilian populace will read it as a sham.  Even our own will interpret the appointment as more of the same.  No, with the other two under a cloud, it must be Philip. We make a statement by deliberately moving within the House but outside of the line of succession. It's a dramatic gesture, one that all of Cascade will recognize.  He's the only realistic choice."

 "Are we agreed?" Lord Harcourt asked. He measured the faces around him. "Then let us proceed immediately. We shall examine him. If we are satisfied, we will confirm Philip, with a public investiture to follow.  He is here, is he not, Lord William?"

 "He is," Lord William confirmed. "Take his measure. Question him as you wish. Be certain before we proceed." It was hard to keep from cheering. If only he could direct his own offspring so efficiently.

Philip was ushered into the room.  Cloaked in sober gray, he appeared older than his years. William noted he wore his House Plummer device upside down, as would be done to recognize the death of a Head of House.  Nice touch, that. He should have thought of it himself. Philip definitely had potential if coached correctly.  The questioning was intense.  Despite having seeded the ground, the Council Lords did not spare the prospective Head of House.  He displayed none of Carolyn's frantic energy, or Gerald's empty arrogance. He exuded humility, the dutiful second son reluctantly assuming a mantle unexpectedly thrust his way. William had to admire the performance. Philip obviously held depths worthy of investigation.

After nearly an hour of questioning, Philip was dismissed and Lord Harcourt polled the group.  There were no dissenting votes.   In a brief private ceremony, Philip was confirmed, the official seals attached to the House Charter.  Notification of all the Houses and a public confirmation would follow with all due haste. William delegated the Investiture arrangements to Lord Daniel Ferrer, who was far too kind to be suspected of ulterior motives.

Philip was summoned and informed.  The members of the Council stood, allowing Philip to conclude the event with proper courtesies.  His life, and those of his chosen and children had just changed irrevocably. "Congratulations, Lord Philip Plummer.  The Council will dispatch a financial specialist team to assist you with the recovery of your House funds, and to help you assemble a temporary staff," Lord William said. "Lord Daniel shall arrange the announcement to the other Heads of House."

"I will be happy to assist," Lord Wylie volunteered.  "Regrettably, we have another issue.  What should we do with Carolyn and Gerald?"

Lord William looked pointedly at Harcourt. The answer was obvious, but he was their Presiding Officer. The pronouncement should come from him alone.  "Temporary House Arrest," Lord Martin said firmly.  "I'll dispatch two teams of Council of Lords personnel."

Philip nodded gravely.  "I defer to your collective judgement. It is my hope that my siblings can be treated gently, and will accept this as the best outcome for us all." His expression was neutral, but his eyes were fastened exclusively on Lord William.

"Well said, Lord Philip."  It amused William to speculate on the young man's true thoughts. No doubt he was rejoicing at the prospect of having his siblings dealt with quietly, and by hands other than his own.

William allowed himself a moment to celebrate. Carolyn was already under surveillance by his own Security teams, and could be picked up immediately, whenever he gave the order.  He'd seen to the isolation of Gerald much earlier, as soon as he'd determined Philip's suitability. House Ellison Security had actually detained him at the apartment he'd arranged for his mistress, or more correctly, his current favorite, apparently in a shocking state of undress. In fact, he had a vid record available, in the event someone had lobbied for Gerald's claim for House leadership.

All in a day's work.

"And House Ventriss?" Lord Northbrook asked. "Perhaps before we go, we should consider the question of ongoing leadership.  A leadership vacuum is not in our best interest. It would be best if we could appear equally definitive in the resolution of that errant House as well.

Lord Harcourt indulged in his first smile of the afternoon. "William has the perfect solution. As a gesture to the citizens of Cascade, we will not only break House Ventriss and announce it publicly, we will elevate a Citizen, one of their own.  It will be the first addition to the Landed Houses in multiple generations."

"What a brilliant gesture, William," Lord Ferrer said.  "The perfect means to turn disaster into advantage.  We'll have rejoicing in the streets instead of riots.  Do you have someone in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Lord William said. "A man of talent and leadership. Unimpeachable integrity, educated and intelligence.  Presence that demands attention."

"Does this paragon have a name?" Lord Northbrook asked. "It does us no good if it's some unrecognizable functionary."

"Tomorrow Governor Thorneville will address the Province.  He will give a full accounting of the sad tale of Garrett Kincaid and Connal Plummer. He will reassure the populace that both are in custody, awaiting justice.  We will be able to have him announce how we have swept House Plummer clean, and introduce our new Lord."  William smiled conspiratorially. "He will then recount the bravery of our Security Services during the siege of House Plummer, and our man's name will become a household item, on the lips of every citizen."

"You have not answered the question, Ellison."

 "No, I have not.  Allow me to assemble a resume and appropriate personal testimony. If it reassures you, I took the liberty of discreet consultation.  Governor Thorneville heartily approves.  After consideration, if the selection meets with your approval, I will open negotiations on our behalf.  We will have enough to do settling House Plummer without an additional distraction."

It was an outrageous affront to the Presiding Officer's authority.  William waited for the challenge to come, but Martin Harcourt seemed resigned that the effort required was not worth the anticipated yield.  William was pleased.  His choice was best kept private for now.  And thanks to Steven, the symmetry of it was a thing of beauty.  Even better, Steven and James had no idea they had delivered such a perfect solution into his hands.

&&&&&

Carolyn poured a generous portion of scotch and downed it in one gulp.  Everything - everything was falling apart.  She choked, and poured another glass.  By the ancestors, she hated scotch.  Even as a gesture the choice was empty.

Had Steven told her the truth?  Did he really know nothing about Philip's whereabouts? It wasn't unthinkable that Lord William would act without the knowledge of his son.  Obviously, her own father hadn't hesitated to do the same. Furious and panicked, she'd gone straight from Steven Ellison's home to Gerald's, only to find her elder brother missing and his chosen in tears, cursing and blithering on about his continued infidelities.  As if Gerald's philandering nature was a revelation.

She slammed the glass down, leaving a large crack snaking up through the thick crystal base.  Her brothers' absence wasn't a coincidence.  She had to find out what was afoot, and take action. Gnawing fretfully on a fingernail, she activated her vidscreen and keyed in the main House Plummer codes, followed by her own retinal scan.

The screen remained black.  No hum of activation.  No soft chime as the financial accounts opened for her view.

She tried again, without success.  Nothing.  By the third try she was trembling with a combination of fear and frustration. As the vid screen remained ominously black and silent, she wailed in rage.  This couldn't be happening!

"Carolyn Plummer of House Plummer."

Carolyn spun on her heel at the voice, and gasped. Four men, garbed in the steel gray and black of Council of Lords Security stared back at her.

"How dare you enter my home without permission." Her eye flicked to the discharge weapon. She'd left it on a table across the room, out of reach and useless to her.  "Explain your presence here."  

The only response from the senior officer was an extended, black-gloved hand.  A tiny red vid chip gleamed like a malevolent bloodshot eye in his palm.

Carolyn recoiled. She knew the significance of such a vid.  She drew herself up.  If they thought she would go meekly, with out a fight, they were mistaken.  "No.  I am Acting Head of House.  I demand to be taken to the Council."

 The officer stepped forward, closing the distance between them.  "Carolyn Plummer, of House Plummer, you are directed to inform yourself of the will of your ruling Council - immediately."

Carolyn's mind was racing.  He had addressed her - twice - without title. Not even acknowledging her as Seneschal, much less Acting Head of House Plummer.  With an audible snarl, Carolyn snatched the chip and jammed it into her personal vid reader.  With her back turned to the officers, she saw the face of Lord Harcourt, heard his terse directive.   Her conduct found wanting. Full abrogation of the successional line.  Seizure of the House credit accounts.  The House to be reorganized under direct supervision from the Council.  By the time the last word of the formal declaration was uttered, she was unable to breathe.

_I'll fight. I won't let them do this to me._

 "It's a lie!" she shouted, rushing at the senior officer in command of the detail.  "I had nothing to do with my father's treason.  Who is my accuser?  Where are my brothers?"

The officer was impassive.  "Carolyn Plummer, it is not our charge to answer your questions.  Do you submit to the will of sovereign authority as embodied by our Council of Lords?  State your intentions, and surrender the badges of your former authority."

Carolyn's mind was racing.  She could deceive them.  She had other weapons, and she had friends.  They couldn't possibly know about all of the secret accounts. If she could reach her dressing suite, a hidden exit would allow her to reach her flyer.   Buy time to divert this attempt to bring her to heel.

Carolyn calmed herself.  "I am a loyal member of House Plummer. I acknowledge the authority of the Council over me and mine."  Involuntarily, her hand flew to her House insignia.  "I will not surrender my symbols of authority until I have the opportunity to face the Council."  She glared at the officer.  "I need a moment to prepare.  Wait here."

The man stepped swiftly into her path. "Our orders are quite specific."  She shoved ineffectually at his chest, to no avail.  With a swift gesture, he motioned the others forward.  "Take her to the transport.  If she puts so much as a toe out of line, secure her as a detainee."

&&&&&

As expected, Eli Stoddard did, in fact, know a geologist. Having listened to Connor's anecdotes and seeing the former Provincial Minister in action himself, Taggert wasn't surprised when a simple inquiry turned into a joint venture. Taggert detoured to Stoddard's home and headed for Rainier.  En route, Stoddard provided a recap of the small but active Planetary Studies Department at the University.  The man's memory was encyclopedic and far more fun than any high tech data retrieval at Security Services.

"You need someone who isn't afraid of a little action," Dr. Stoddard said firmly, leading the way through the labyrinthine building on Rainier's campus to the offices of Dr. Cyrus Graden. "Not only is Cyrus an up and coming authority on the geologic structures and tectonics of the Northwest, he has a bit of the swashbuckler about him.  He should fit right in with your group at Major Incident."

Joel Taggert wasn't sure that was a compliment, but he couldn't suppress a grin.  "I beg your pardon, Minister.  Swashbuckling and Security Services in the same sentence?"

"Only in a strictly laudatory sense, Captain Taggert. Your bunch pulls off the remarkable on a daily basis, and are, shall we say, creative in approach. Willing to take risks." He noted Taggert's frown. "No offense intended, Captain. You hardly have a realistic scale of comparison.  But come along and meet Cyrus.  You'll see."

Cyrus Graden was dark haired, lean bodied and just barely under six feet.  He listened carefully to Taggert's idea - an underground smuggling chamber, cut in such a way to hide access and screen from overflight sensors.  He detailed the typical large-scale smuggling vessel to rough out the dimensions and landing flight requirements.

"Well, I always expect something interesting when Eli shows up, but this is downright fun."  Dr. Graden activated a vid screen, turning one of his office walls into a blaze of color.  "Captain Taggert, I realize reading this type of projection isn't in your skill set, but it will give you an idea of how complex the geology of Cascade Province and the surrounding area actually is.  We have active volcanoes, fault lines, glaciers, plutons, just to name a few. We've isolated more than fifteen terranes."

"Terrain?  Excuse me, Professor, terrain is - well, terrain.  You climb over it."

"Ah, we have a homonym problem. Different spelling and meaning, same sound.  You're thinking of hills and valleys and traveling cross country, no doubt pursuing some fugitive. When I say 'tarrane' I mean a unique geologic area, bounded by faults.  Same rocks, same formation." 

"You're right, Professor.  My skill set is lacking," Taggert said, not hiding his amusement.  You had to love these academics.

Cyrus Graden grinned cheerfully.  "I dare say you possess competencies I could only dream of. Your specialty, Captain?" Dr. Graden asked.

"The short version is I disable bombs of all sorts. Mechanical, chemical, nuclear, sonic and electronic.  You get the gist."

"Ah, not so bad.  Then you studied chemistry, and like your field, geology can be quite violent. It's just the time frame that's different.  Now, back to our discussion of terranes.  It's not a perfect analogy, but imagine our Province as a mixing bowl of mismatched ingredients. Distinct bits and pieces everywhere, and those ingredients have been again modified by folding, magma, glaciers, you name it.  It's far from uniform."

Taggert nodded, trying to conceal his disappointment. Maybe this was a dead end. Interesting, but a dead end. Damn.

Dr. Graden apparently noticed the dismay on his face. "Don't misunderstand. The problem isn't whether such a place could exist, but that we have so many possibilities, both natural and human-made. Do you have a time frame in mind?"

Taggert frowned.  "It wouldn't have to be recent construction, if that's what you mean. Perhaps an existing structure refitted secretly."

Dr. Graden gestured toward the projection. "We had excellent records of known structures until the collapse of the United States and shortly thereafter. During the dark times, there were all sorts of unmonitored excavations.  Underground forts, munitions storage, illegal mines.  After the Founding Fifty began to take hold in Cascade Province, each House had food and water storage, secret military outposts that were often underground.  Considering the turmoil in society, they were both ingenious and prolific.  Our records are therefore incomplete.  Any of those could be enlarged to harbor a smuggling vessel."

Taggert nodded in understanding.  He'd spent enough time in the last few days prowling through two classic examples of ingenious deception.  There would have to be hundreds, if not thousands of candidates.

"I doubt the Houses would share any of their secrets if you asked, so we're on our own."  Dr. Graden pulled him over to the vidmap, and gave a basic overview of the coded information conveyed.  "Based on what you know, can you identify a general area of interest?"

It took a moment for Taggert to match his information to the projection.  "The last scans located the flyer in this area.  Searchers converged on the area quickly, and we know the max velocities for that class vessel."  Taggert indicated a wide circle over the vid map.  "I'd expect a flyer to have gone to ground in this area."

"Interesting."  With a short series of verbal coordinates, Dr. Graden expanded the view.  "There's a lot of diversity even in the section you've indicated.  This long ridge is sedimentary, varied types but even some limestone.  Soft, easy to tunnel. This central area is heavily metamorphosed - heated and twisted - producing hard, dense rock - maybe not so good. We still find beautiful crystal forms in that area, and even now there's a lot of covert activity. The Houses try to regulate any prospecting, but lone operators get in on a regular basis.  Some of the poor souls from the Boundary try to recover crystals right under the noses of our Landed Houses.  A fine specimen could be sold for enough credits to feed a family for several years."  He gave Taggert a conspiratorial glance.  "I have a few specimens in my collection that certain aristocrats might not be too happy about."

"So there are people in the area," Taggert mused. "Hard to keep a site secret."

"Exactly my thought.  But then, who would a denizen of the Boundary report it to, and even with the sedimentary formations, we still have the access issues. Wouldn't your scanners pick up mechanical means?  They wouldn't be able to hide retractable flight docking doors, for example."

"A structure that large?  Our scanners would get a hit, even with electronic masking." He thought for a moment. "Of course, the scanners automatically screen out obvious natural structures that would ordinarily constitute interference."

"So if they got in and shut mechanics down completely?"

Taggert nodded.  "We might miss it."

"Then they'd have to actually get into a hidden chamber, but if you're not finding it, they must be modifying a natural structure."  Dr. Graden stared at the vid intently.  "Here. Of course.  It's perfect."  Again, he rattled off a series of commands.  "My top candidate, Captain."

Taggert stared in disbelief.  The vid projection showed a waterfall.  "You think they're underwater?"

Dr. Graden grinned.  "Not exactly.  This is Cave Falls, and what you're seeing is just the last bit of it. It's really quite amazing, but hardly anyone knows about it because most of it is hidden from view and access is downright dangerous.  Not to mention that the Houses guard their undeveloped territories jealously." Images began to flash across the vid, and Dr. Graden continued his explanations.  "Overall drop of 450 feet, but you can only see the final plunge from up above.  At the upper end, Big Creek carves a canyon from the volcanic plateau and drops into the only true slot canyon on this part of the continent."  Dr. Graden traced the path so Taggert could follow. "The slot is extremely narrow, but it opens into a beautiful natural cave which isn't visible from above. If someone had done a little careful alteration at the top of the slot, maybe enlarged the cave itself very carefully - it would appear to be totally natural. No anomalies for your tech sensors to pick up."

"From the scanners it would look like they dropped out of the sky," Taggert said in an awed voice. "You'd need a lot less than 450 feet of rock to evade the scanners.  How far is this area from Cascade Boundary?"

"Not that far."  Dr. Graden expanded the vid.  "You could actually follow the path of Big Creek up the lower section of the watercourse very easily.  It would be easy to conceal secretive traffic in and out, at least from aerial surveillance.  Our geologic scans in this area are always lousy because of the mineral content of some of the volcanic rock.  Even your security scanners have to be at a disadvantage."

"So if you were skilled and careful enough, you could probably do it," Taggert mused. 

"That's my assessment, Captain. I think your theory is sound, but other than this one spot, I can't do much to help you locate a candidate. I can give you this one, or hundreds."  He tapped the vid projection again.  "I sense you don't have time for a wild goose chase, but I think this one site is worth checking before you abandon the idea."

"Thank you, Professor," Taggert said, rising to go.  "I'll be in touch."

Eli Stoddard was grinning from ear to ear. "Told you he was the best."

"Just an added tip, Captain," Dr. Graden added as he escorted the two men toward the door.  "Have a chat with your Science Services people. You can't search the length of the slot canyon on foot from above.  One slip, you drop a couple hundred feet and you're dead.  In addition to the drop, the force of the water moving through that slot canyon is like a water cannon.  Personal hover equipment with very fine control would be the way to go." He grinned impishly. "Not that a mere academic like myself would know about such things."

"Hover equipment isn't a matter for casual speculation, Dr. Graden," Taggert said, with a sternness he didn't mean.

"Oh, lighten up," said Eli Stoddard, ribbing the bigger man with an elbow.  "Take pity on the poor boy.  He has to write grants, you know.  He's practically begging you to take notes for him."

&&&&&

Sentinel Commandant Ed Winter wondered for the thousandth time why Cascade was so complicated.  He shifted uncomfortably, keenly aware of every ache and pain that still plagued him.  At his age, recovery from full systemic shock took time.  Damn Kincaid and his illegal weapons.  Even a devoted, extraordinarily competent guide like Sonya Kim couldn't make him a twenty-five year old kid again, as Sonya had tartly reminded him.

For  a moment, he resented every one of the twenty years he had on Ellison. Annoying, the resilience of relative youth.  The man was an emerging sentinel, had been hit with the same O.A.V. that had nearly shut Winter down for good, but Ellison was moving with a physical ease Winter could only wish for.  To hear Chambers tell it, while Winter had been convalescing in bed, they'd practically had to tie S.S.I. Sentinel Ellison down to keep from scouring the city for his guide-to-be.  

Security Services Sentinel Captain Craig Chambers had invited him to attend this initial briefing with Ellison.  Despite Sonya's objections, Winter wouldn't hear of missing it. A late emerging sentinel automatically qualified for extensive monitoring.  Resources were dispensed generously, along with special training and support.  This was particularly true for a serving security officer.  In fact, no one could even recall a similar situation, nor could one be found in the records.  He, more than any other official in Cascade, was responsible for the well-being of this man. Despite the near catastrophe at the Plummer estate with that viper Kincaid, Winter had every intention of ensuring that James Ellison had a smooth transition into sentinel life.

Besides, Chambers was highly respected by the sentinels who served under him, and it was a pleasure to watch the man work. With a wicked sense of humor and a casual manner, he was doing an exemplary job with this highly unusual sentinel orientation.  Definitely one for the books - an emerging sentinel, in the middle of at least three highly sensitive cases he couldn't be removed from, being briefed in a Security Services safe house because his guide was in protective custody. Then throw in a temporary - now permanent - guide with a complicated past, who apparently had pulled off the rarest of the rare, a near perfect pairing without the benefit of any selection protocol.  Any single one of those factors would have been sufficient to get James Ellison to the top of the Sentinel Captain's priority chart.

Now that he thought about it, Winter figured he was ahead with simple aches and pains.  He wouldn't trade spots with Ellison on a bet.

Winter noted that Chambers was going through the easy stuff first: medical checks, clothing and equipment allowances, the credentialing procedures for Sandburg, setting appointments for the transition team to visit Ellison's home and work areas.  Ellison seemed to vacillate between annoyed and overwhelmed. He also seemed a bit distracted.   After a few minutes, Winter realized the distraction was Sandburg.  Ellison, with a beginner's awkwardness, was trying to monitor his guide. Although it was invasion of privacy with another sentinel's guide, Winter did a quick assessment of his own.

The results alarmed him.  For all of Sandburg's professional calm, his body was a mess. Ellison had reason to be concerned. The fact that he was capable of tracking his guide's physical distress was in itself a rather impressive feat.

Winter reached that conclusion just moments before Chambers turned the meeting over to him.  Now it was his turn to begin broaching the areas most new sentinels had objections to.  He motioned for Sonya Kim to join them more directly, and assist with his part of the briefing. Most sentinels responded very positively to Sonya, and they would need all the help they could get. "Before returning to active duty, Sentinel Ellison, you'll need to complete a formal sensory evaluation. We usually allow two weeks, although a few individuals have completed it more quickly."

Ellison frowned.  "Why can't I just go back to work?  I feel fine.  If the medical people clear me, what's the big deal?"

"The sensory evaluations are essential, Sentinel Ellison."  Kim's voice was deceptively soft.  Winter smiled inwardly.  More than one sentinel had be lulled by that delicate feminine voice while Kim calmly put the hammer down.  He could count himself among their number.  "Accurate information will allow Guide Sandburg to best plan how to assist you. The baseline scans are also essential for medical treatment, which your own guide can attest to."

Nice opening line, but Ellison wasn't mollified. "Just in case no one happened to notice, Sandburg outdid all the medical personnel all by himself," Ellison said truculently.  "If he didn't need scans to do that when we barely knew each other, then I don't need them now either.  Just arrange something when I go in for my yearly medical."

"I assure you, Sentinel Ellison, completing the scan will be a great relief to your guide," Kim said smoothly, gesturing toward Sandburg.  "Allow me to explain.  Every sentinel is so unique, each sentinel is measured against their individual baselines rather than each other.  Accurate information will allow Guide Sandburg to evaluate your situation in a crisis, and direct medical treatment.  Your guide carries the burden of this responsibility, often to the point of holding your life in his hands.  In fairness to Guide Sandburg, you shouldn't ask him to work without basic information."

 For the first time, Sandburg weighed into the conversation. "That's true, Jim. It's part of the reason everyone freaked out when you were in the Sentinel Care Center," Sandburg said. Winter found himself nodding in approval, both of the content and Sandburg's technique.  Level voice, very subtle physical contact. Ellison probably wasn't even aware he was doing it, just that his guide's presence was soothing. Excellent timing and coordination of vocal and physical support.  Sandburg looked like hell, but everything he did with his sentinel was pitched perfectly. What fool - or despicable liar - had ever labeled this one lacking?

Guide Kim nodded appreciatively.  "In addition, the baseline scans are used to validate your testimony in Law and Justice proceedings.  Defense Advocates have fits when sentinels with high ratings testify against their clients.  I have no doubt your readings will be exceptional, Sentinel Ellison, but they will need to be documented before being used in a legal proceeding."

Winter noticed that Ellison bristled every time his Sentinel rank was used.  He wasn't surprised. It was much easier to accept sentinel identity earlier in life.  Ellison no doubt resented the disruption of his sense of self.

 Blair Sandburg leaned against Ellison and wrapped his fingers around the taller man's wrist.  "Really, Jim, this is new to you but all very normal. Think of all that testimony you'll have to give about Plummer and Kincaid.  Everything you heard is an essential part of the case, isn't it? I know you want to give your evidence maximum credibility." 

 Ellison's eyes flashed with anger. Winter didn't envy the defense advocate who would eventually be tasked with cross examining him.   "Those two are going down, no matter what."

"I couldn't agree more," Sandburg said. "Really, Jim, you don't have to absorb this all at once.  You'll have a transition coach who will liaise with Sentinel Services to make this easier for you."

Ellison glared across the room at his host of visitors. "I liked my job just fine before, without all this nonsense.  I was good at it without being a sentinel.  I don't see the point.    I don't know - can't we just sort of ignore it and let me do my job?"

Sandburg wasn't finished.  "Jim, I promise you, after a little while you won't want to ignore your senses.  You need control and practice, not denial."

"It will be different, Sentinel Ellison, but you may be pleasantly surprised," Winter said.  "Provincial Law and Justice allows sentinels wide latitude in the use of their senses for evidence collection and investigation. Once you've completed the required training - "

"Training?  What training?"  Ellison practically came out of his seat.  "Like some seminar or something?  No way. Banks will tell you how well I do at lectures and meetings."  He quickly appealed to who he obviously thought was his closest ally. "Captain Chambers, you know I can't take time out for training right now.  You guys can't be serious." 

Sandburg was desperately trying to get his attention and calm him, as would any good guide, before any serious stress reactions had a chance to take hold.  "No, Chief, don't worry.  This isn't your fault." Ellison's hands ware gripped tightly around the arm of the settee he and Sandburg were sharing. "Captain Chambers, I'm not being difficult for the entertainment.  You can't pull me off the job and out of Major Incident. Training?  Just get me a manual or something."

"Actually, that is exactly what Commandant Winter had suggested," Sonya Kim said, smoothly interrupting the potentially heated exchange.  Every eye turned to her, including Winter's, since he'd actually suggested no such thing. Quite the contrary, he had an extensive vid presentation on the choices of training courses and schedules. What could Sonya possibly have up her sleeve?  Not only did Ellison need training, but they hadn't even broached Sandburg's lack of security training.  These two were weeks, if not months, from assuming active duty.

Kim continued in her trademark lilting tones. "Your situation is unique. It would be foolish to imply that you'd need to completely relearn your professional skills.  With the permission of both of you, I have requested to be your liaison."  She gave both Winter and Chambers a look that said, 'Let me handle this.' Winter gave Chambers a quick nod to clue him in.  Sonya didn't often freelance like this, but he trusted her implicitly.  "With Guide Sandburg's assistance, I suggest we meet several times a week when you are not on assignment.  We will design a program suited to your particular needs."

"That's very generous of you, Guide Kim," Sandburg said. His expressive face telegraphed his relief at the proposed compromise.  "A personal program would be an outstanding way of minimizing transition stress.  I'm sure Jim and Captain Banks will be pleased to work around your schedule."

"I'm sure you are correct, Guide Sandburg," Kim said, standing with her usual grace.  "How wonderful we've been able to reach agreement on a potentially difficult problem so quickly.  If Captain Chambers is satisfied, perhaps we should retire and give you a little time to prepare for other visitors.  I know you are expecting medical personnel shortly."

Ellison looked slightly poleaxed.  Without actually agreeing, the two guides had essentially built a school, designed the curriculum and signed him up as the only pupil. Winter almost laughed out loud. Ellison would learn, as did almost all sentinels, that every now and then a good guide flipped from the support to leadership role.  And as every sentinel could tell you, once the guides fired up the transport, it was best to get on or get out of the way.

&&&&&

"Enough of this arguing!" Willa Gentry's voice was harsh, a tone she regretted.  Her boys had been born into a life of hardship, but she'd always tried to manage her two sons with as much gentleness as their circumstances allowed.  She knew her own nature to be capable of great ruthlessness. It was her long dead Colm who had taught her the meaning of right, of goodness and gentleness. It was his kindness she tried to reflect to Lynch and Trane, not her own.

Pausing, she struggled for calm.  "I'll say this one more time.  I didn't just let the guide go.  I helped him.  It was time to act, and I didn't have time for a conference with the two of you. The money he would have brought would have generated triple the grief.  You saw for yourselves - he had ties!  Only someone with real power or connections could pull off that rescue. Who or what can get clearance to fly back and forth over the boundary, or disable the shields? Did you really want that - whatever 'that' is - breathing down your neck?"

"You didn't know that when you let him go," Trane said bitterly.

"No, I didn't."  Willa sank to a seat on a cracked plastocarton. "But my instincts have kept you both alive all your lives, and I won't apologize for following them. There was something special about him." She raised a hand to silence her sons' further protests.  It gave her a sliver of satisfaction that they both showed her at least that much respect. "I stand by the decision. We will not revisit this again."

Trane stared sullenly in another direction. So angry, that one. Lynch gave a slow nod of acceptance. Willa inwardly sighed with relief, glad to put this particular argument to bed.  Her sons started to leave.  "Wait. Lynch, pour the wine we kept from that last shipment we lifted.  Three cups."

"Mama?" Trane asked.  Both her boys knew she never touched drink, not since their father died.

"Three cups, my boy.  I have something to say, to both of you." Willa folded her calloused hands, waiting for the wine to be opened, the glasses filled.  "I've been meaning to do this for a long time. I promised your father to see you into manhood."  She swirled the ruby liquid idly in the cloudy glass.  "Your father saw the long view, to a time when all had the right to a decent life.  He died with that belief in his heart."  She raised her glass and took a small sip, the first she'd taken since closing the eyes on Colm for the last time. Tears welled up and she forced them back. "It's time for me to step aside, for the two of you to chart your own courses.  Whether you do it together or as individuals is up to you."

Lynch reached out and took her hand. "Mama, we had a difference of opinion.  I apologize if you thought it was more than that.  You're the wisest person I know."

She patted his hand, for the sheer kindness of the thing. "I'm tired, boys. I've fulfilled my promise to your father.  I'd like to spend what remains of my life on a bigger dream than scratching for survival. With your permission, I'd like ten percent of the profits.  Some I'll live on. The rest I'll use - well, I'd like to start a school for the best of the children in the Boundary. Buy books.  Have classes.  Introduce them to music and art.  What I don't know - well, we'll find someone who does.  Treat at least some of our young ones as if they had a right to better things."

"Of course," Lynch said. Trane was silent, his eyes glittering in the pale, uneven light.  Willa waited, wondering if her younger son would remain silent or actively oppose her intentions.  When he said nothing further, she moved on to the next critical point she needed to make.

"I would hope the two of you could work together, but you should also consider splitting the business, giving each of you some autonomy.  You have different ways of doing things, different strengths, and I don't want family fighting family."  She raised her hands, expecting an argument.  "No, no.  Don't answer now. If you agree, we'll discuss this again in a month.  Give yourselves some time to consider which areas you have talent for, and decide then."

Lynch was thoughtful.  Trane - she suspected his considerations were bounding forward. Lynch was a natural leader, but Trane was a strategist.  Such a shame that bitterness clouded his thoughts.  In the end, they both nodded.

"One more thing.  I've been doing a lot of listening to our informants since that crazy night. That guide?  I've heard some very evil things about Lord Ventriss and that guide."  She looked toward Lynch, who gave her a reluctant nod.  "I've also heard that Security Services have been looking for Lord Norman. Yes?"

"That's right," Trane said. "All the usual informants are asking questions.  Security Services wants Ventriss badly, and it does have something to do with that guide. You were right, Mama, although I hate to admit it.  It was better for us to stay away from him."

Willa looked at him steadily.  Did he think she didn't notice this rebellion he'd been quietly conducting?  Little bits of information withheld, information he chose not to pass on according to their usual procedures.  "I give you this one last piece of advice, my sons.  Lord Ventriss may pay, but this is one we don't touch. In fact, if you can find him, turn Lord Ventriss over to Security Services as a gift.  Drive a good bargain, but essentially a gift. This is just a hunch, but I think a little good will with the authorities might go a long way in the next few months."

Trane and Lynch exchanged guilty looks, confirming her suspicions.  They'd already considered this issue, and left her out of the discussion.  "Do you know where he is?" she asked softly.

"No," Trane said.  "We had some feelers for a deal after Security Services stormed the Ventriss estate, and then everything went quiet. They're searching, we're searching. We've had to close down all our smuggling routes until the attention dies down."

Willa downed the rest of her wine and set the glass into her elder son's hand.  "I've always thought Lord Norman a vicious fool, but that seneschal of his has a mind like a trap.  They have a bolt hole, boys, and they're looking for a way out.  They're not coming to us directly because they suspect we'd double deal on them, which is exactly what I'm advising you to do.  You can use this to your advantage.  I'd like to spend the rest of the evening undisturbed. Good night, boys."

She headed for her small room, still the same place as when she shared it with Colm, carved out of a corner of the main warehouse that was the base of their operation.   She paused at the doorway, still covered by a blanket drape, tilting her head in thought.  "I know we don't use it often, but how long has it been since one of our scouts checked Cave Falls?"  She smiled gently at their identical wide-eyed expressions.  "Might be worth a look.  I was thinking about taking a little break to start my retirement. Maybe you'd consider giving me a few men, and I'll take a little stroll in that direction." She smiled as they grasped the implied suggestion.  "Just a thought, boys.  Just a thought."

&&&&&

"Is it real?"

"Yes, Melissa.  It is very real.  It is also very much yours."

Philip said, gazing fondly at the woman who had been his joined spouse and, in a few minutes, would become his consort, and Lady Plummer of House Plummer.  After the disastrous joinings of his siblings, he'd been determined to follow his own heart, and never regretted insisting on Melissa.  Other prospects had better family connections and credit accounts, but lacked Melissa's kind heart and judgement.

Lord Harcourt had moved swiftly to enact the Council's decision.  Messages and summons had gone out, throwing the community of landed Houses into a frenzy. The scrambles with his own family were no doubt being repeated all over Cascade; assembling family members, finding just the right dress or tunic, preparing the formal regalia.

In just a few moments, he and his family would be presented to the assembled Heads of House as the new direct heirs to House Plummer. The investiture would be simple, but the transfer of power would be complete before the sun began to dip toward the horizon.  Philip realized his selection was a political expediency for the Council.  He would have control, but only with the Council, particularly House Ellison guiding his steps.  Philip had no illusions about the role Lord William had chosen to play in his elevation to Head of House, and the debt he would need to repay. Not that he minded. He'd chafed at the realities of being a second son, knowing that his role would ever be in the shadows, despite the fact Gerald was a licentious idiot and Carolyn more interested with her own agenda than House welfare.  This was the improbable chance of a lifetime.  He could almost forgive his father for bringing them to the brink of disaster if this was to be the outcome.

As he had requested, Melissa and the children were in their formal attire.  Haste dictated certain compromises; Kyllan's tunic was a bit large, and his trousers a tiny bit short.  Rambunctious Chloe was so fascinated by her pale blue skirt that it was often up by her eyes, being minutely examined rather than about her chubby legs. Melissa had chosen a simple black velvet gown, one she had worn to a Founder's Day gala years ago. The sleek, almost severe style, was in keeping with her reserved personality.  The dark fabric highlighted her pale complexion, now flushed with excitement. 

Philip took the brooch, the visible symbol of House Plummer, from her hand and fastened it carefully above her heart. The lion holding the plume, sparkling with sapphire, gold and pearl, was now the emblem of her station, Consort to Head of House.  "You'll have to get used to answering to Lady Plummer.  This hasn't been worn since my mother passed away.  I have no doubt that you will wear it with honor and grace." Philip traced the line of her jaw with his finger, more grateful than ever that this intelligent, sensitive woman was at his side.

By right, the Plummer tiara, should be on her head, a fact that annoyed Philip immensely.  Carolyn, predictably outraged by her demotion and detention, refused to relinquish the family treasure in time for it to be used for the ceremony. Philip allowed her this spiteful and thoroughly empty protest, although he privately vowed it would be his sister's last.  Thanks to Lord William and the House Ellison accountants, the all important House Plummer credit accounts were already coming under Philip's control.  Carolyn could rage at the wind for all he cared. Besides, her defiance had ultimately backfired.  Upon hearing of her intransigence, Lord Wylie, in a gesture both kind and overtly political, had provided his favorite niece with a headpiece of diamond stars from the House Wylie treasures, suitable for the occasion.  Those in the know would notice his support and tacit approval.

To pass the last few moments waiting, Philip nudged six-year-old Kyllan, fair-skinned and dark-haired like his mother. "What do you think? Your mama looks wonderful, doesn't she?"

"Mmm hmm.  Sparkly.  Do I have to wear this tunic, Papa?"

Philip rustled his son's hair.  "Today you do, because it's a special night.  Will you be my best helper and watch your sister?"  He looked fondly at his younger child, with her tousled honey-colored curls and wide eyes.  "Chloe, tell me your promise."

"To be quiet and sit still and not wiggle."  She's sighed, briefly losing interest in her skirts.  "It's had, Papa."

 "That's right," Philip answered, knowing how great a challenge 'not wiggling' would be for their restless child. "Mistress Rachel will show you where to sit and what to do, so you must mind her.  When we're done, we'll have special family time."

"With ice pream?"

Melissa rolled her eyes, and Philip had to smile. Their daughter's casual relationship with consonants was a frustration to her articulate mother. "We may have nothing but ice cream for dinner.  Strawberry and chocolate, little one, but remember about the wiggling."  Rachel, the children's au pair, took the little girl's hand with a knowing smile.

The herald announced them, and the double doors of the reception hall opened before them.

Philip took Melissa's arm.  Storms with his siblings were no doubt on the horizon, he had a shattered House to rebuild, and complicated political debts to repay. At this moment, none of that mattered. Against all odds, he, the second son, was to be Head of House, and he would allow his spirits to soar with the moment.

&&&&&

Simon Banks arrived at the safe house in a swirl of orders and activity.  Jim wasted no time in dragging him behind closed doors to get the latest news. 

"Get Sandburg, Jim.  I think he needs to be here."

Jim looked apprehensively toward Blair's individual suite. "Can't we leave him out of this for now, Captain?  I sent him off to rest, but supposedly he's meditating.  Explain to me how sitting motionless and tied up like a knot is relaxing."

"Like I'd know," Simon scoffed. "I understand your concern, but I think he should be here.  Damn, Jim, if I get one more lecture about not stressing my new sentinel, I - well, I don't know what."

Jim bristled at the comment.  "You think you're sick of it?  Try being me.  I wish I could forget the whole thing.  I can do my job if all these Nervous Nellies would get out of my way."

"Obviously, you got your orientation materials."

"Yes," Jim said testily. He started to tick off items on his fingers.  "And a personal visit from Captain Chambers and Commandant Winter, along with Sonya Kim, who is a drill director masquerading as a guide.  I think I'm signed up for private lessons, and don't ask me how that happened. Not to mention that Sandburg is right there aiding and abetting.  I'm outnumbered and outflanked."

"Well, you should see the reports I have to file for a sick sentinel.  Ellison, I hate reports."  Jim didn't need to see his captain's trademark scowl to get the point.  "We are not going there, Jim.  You're going to follow the rules, and that means get your guide and we do this according to procedure."

Jim started out of the room, and turned back. "Sending Daryl was a good call, Captain.  Your boy does you proud, Simon.  He has a knack for being disarming while he asks questions I wouldn't dare, and Blair likes him. I think we should try to get him assigned until things calm down.  Would Command go for that?"

Simon's severe expression softened. "I don't think temporary reassignment would be any problem.  Thanks, Jim. Any father is happy to hear his boy is doing well."

"He's really good at it, Captain. I mean it."

Simon shrugged but was obviously pleased. "Maybe it's an age thing, and Daryl seems less threatening than the rest of us.  Why don't you grab him when you get Sandburg."

It wasn't quite as immediate as all that. Since Jim's commanding officer was involved, Blair insisted on taking a moment to look, as he put it, presentable. Jim was about to protest when Blair pulled the informal uniform from the dressing suite, and then silenced himself.   His own off-planet army service had drilled in the importance of professional demeanor and dress. Blair had to be as unsure of his new role as everyone else was.  Surrounded by others in uniform, being on equal footing wasn't such a bad idea.

They gathered in the small study, dominated by comfortable chairs and a low table.  Blair greeted Simon very formally, and Simon responded in kind.  As soon as the traditional courtesies were over, Jim pounced, demanding detailed information on the detention of Brad Ventriss and the search for Lord Norman.  "I can't believe that bastard got away," Jim fumed.

"I'm not surprised." 

Jim turned toward his guide, slightly annoyed with the comment, interpreting it as a slight to Major Incident's competence. The retort died before being uttered. Blair was staring at his hands, head bowed, clearly lost in some other memory. 

"What do you mean, Chief?"

"Lord Norman's dishonesty and self-interest are articles of faith.  He's so twisted, he trusts no one, and he would bolt at the slightest hint of trouble. I should have warned you - I knew he has hidden sensors way outside the estate boundaries." He look in Simon's direction was almost fearful.  "I screwed up."

Jim held his breath.  His Captain was a fair man, but demanding, and Jim's first impulse was to intercede quickly and protect his vulnerable guide.  Disapproval from Jim's superior might be more than Blair could sustain.  To his relief, Simon's gaze was neutral and his voice patient.  "Oh, no, Guide Sandburg.  The problem wasn't the warning sensors.  It was the countermeasures in the interior passages.  Science Services says some of them they've never seen before, much less have evasion protocols.  This wasn't your doing."

Blair seemed thoughtful.  "Maybe.  He's very protective of Bradley.  If he didn't get his son out with him, maybe he truly was surprised.  Will the prosecutors proceed without having Lord Norman in custody?"

Simon snorted.  "Beverly Sanchez is on fire, and Megan Connor is fanning the flames.  The evidence coming through Eli Stoddard from the University is excellent.  I expect that she'll want to speak with you in the next few days." 

Blair's eyes dropped again, his hands knotted into fists. Simon gave Jim a pointed look.

 Jim consciously schooled his voice to the most encouraging tone he could manage.  "You are going to give evidence, aren't you?  Ventriss can't touch your mother, Blair."   When Blair didn't answer, Jim's concern mounted. "Blair, is there something you want to tell me?"

"He has a long reach, Jim.  There's always someone who can be bought for a few credits." Blair's breath started to come shallow and fast.  "He killed Lady Elizabeth - his own Consort!  The mother of his child and heir!  Mom and I are just one transaction from dead."

"We're not going to let that happen, Sandburg," Simon said with steel in his voice. 

"You don't understand," Blair said. Jim's eyes widened as his guide's respiration got even faster, becoming a ragged, congested pant. "You just don't understand."

&&&&&

Meecha Foster's hands were trembling by the time Chancellor Edwards swirled out of the room.  Fear?  Anger? Probably both. As the room fell silent in her wake, Meecha hesitantly touched the dermal bandages at her neck and cheek. Her body still jerked involuntarily, as if by resurrecting the memory she could somehow have evaded the scalding liquid and sharp edges that had cut and burned her skin.

She'd never felt so humiliated.  To come back and sit in this office after Marie Edwards had treated her so horribly took every ounce of willpower she possessed. She'd followed every ridiculous order, absorbed every malicious verbal barb, tolerated every unjust criticism for five interminable hours - until now.

Now she was alone.  She had one final task to accomplish.

Before doing anything, she went to the exterior viewpanel. Sure enough, there went Chancellor Edwards, picked up as usual by private flyer.  The self-appointed princess of Rainier University didn't stoop to piloting her own craft.  As the flyer lifted off, she stepped back from the panel to make sure she was out of view. No point in tipping Edwards off. Better for Edwards to imagine that her Support Specialist was cowed as well as humiliated.

Meecha spun on her heel, returned to her work station, and shoved her vid screen to the side of her desk, resisting the temptation to hurl it to the floor.  Using the cleared surface, she unfolded the double flaps of her carry bag.  Reaching into the top drawer, she began to pull out vid chips, carefully tucking two or three into each pocket of the soft cloth.

Meecha Foster was good at her job. It had taken every ounce of skill to keep up a semblance of regular work while she copied file after file. It would have been safer for the Chancellor if she'd prepared her own illicit correspondence, and not trusted it to her assistant, but Edwards was far too arrogant to prepare her own vid and correspondence files. Having prepared them, Meecha could make a pretty good guess at which ones would do the most damage.

She continued methodically, noting when other occupants of Rainier's Administration Center departed.  Placing the bag neatly on her chair, she coded the main office doors for closure.  Did she really want to risk the next step?  Her fingers danced along the fabric of her blouse, its pristine white cotton surface marred with ugly stains.  She'd saved for months to buy it - natural fiber garments came only from Level 1 shops. It might be a vanity, but she loved the crispness, the way it felt against her skin. 

The anger welled up inside of her. Edwards never really grasped the accuracy and breadth of Meecha's powers of recall, or her keen sense of survival. Three years ago, she'd ordered Meecha to come back after hours, unlock her office and retrieve a particular vid, bringing it down to a courier.  Just that once, years ago.  Edwards had never bothered to check, and never noticed that her retinal scan disk had been copied twice that evening instead of scanned just once.

Too bad for her.

After taking a deep breath, Meecha's long fingers began to tap in the fifteen digit code from memory with flawless accuracy. A moment later, she held up the delicate opaque disk that mimicked Edwards' own retinal image. The doors to Edwards' private work suite slipped open with a soft swoosh.  The same retinal disk opened a recessed privacy compartment in the credenza. This is where Edwards kept the records for her off-the-record arrangements, especially the lucrative ones.

For the next few minutes, Meecha searched out the names she wanted most.  She'd made a mental list of the top candidates during each agonizing minute she'd spent waiting for Edwards to leave.   She copied as she searched, working carefully but with haste.  Edwards could return, or someone from the cleaning staff could enter.  She tried not to think about any additional security Edwards might have installed, that would send University Security sweeping down on her before she could escape. She took meager reassurance in the soft chime of the vid replicator as it successfully copied each file.

 &&&&&

 "Steven, I still can't believe your father would do this to you.  I just don't believe it."

 "Sorry, Kimi, but I was there. My Seneschal's insignia is sitting on my father's desk.  That is, it's sitting on Father's desk if he hasn't already replaced me." Steven shrugged, wishing the admission didn't hurt so much.

"Then he's a fool.  Most of the Houses of Cascade Province would kill to get a Seneschal of your abilities, my own father included."  Kimi Akiyama scooped a long lock of her sleek dark hair behind her ear, shaking her head. 

After Steven's deliberately cryptic message, she had come directly from her research lab to see him.  Her appearance at his door had lightened his heart. She was dressed simply and stylishly in tapered black slacks and a burgundy sweater.  Her choice of apparel brought a smile to Steven's face. He had given her the sweater on Citizen's Day as a gift.  As usual, she looked lovely.  It could have been his imagination, but her kiss seemed sweeter than usual.

"I appreciate the compliment, Kimiko. I knew when I challenged him directly this was a possibility."  He swirled the white wine in his glass, buying a little time.  He needed a level voice to make the next, necessary statement. "I stand by the decision. My only real regret is the attendant change this must make in our relationship."

"Steven," Kimiko chided. "Is that what this is about  Why in the name of the ancestors did you think this would matter to me?  Me of all people?" 

"I could hope," Steven said, lacing his fingers through hers.  "It would still be wrong not to tell you, or to pretend that this didn't represent a change."

Kimi tapped a chopstick on her plate impatiently with her free hand.  When she'd accepted Steven's last minute invitation, she'd insisted on bringing sushi prepared by the itamae of House Akiyama.  Steven hated to imagine the cost of the ingredients, but he never declined an invitation to partake.  "My original point stands, Steven.  I don't care." Another forceful tap, emphasizing her verbal point.

"Kimi, you know I've spoken to your father. He will feel differently, and as your father and Head of House he has every right -"

"Steven - _anata_ \- sometimes you are so serious and so foolish."  Shaking her head, she placed the chopsticks carefully on their shared plate and slid over to sit closer to him.   "Your concern for my family's reaction?  If you fail to become my chosen, my mother will scold me and adopt you herself. My brothers think you hung the stars ever since you took them hover sailing in the Puget."

"Your father -" 

"My father, tough guy that he pretends to be, told me if there was any way he could steal you away from House Ellison, he'd take you in a flash."  With an impish wink, she added, "He might have mentioned that a life commitment with his eldest daughter would be a lot cheaper than making you a financial offer you couldn't refuse."

Steven nearly shouted with laughter. "He did no such thing!"

"He most certainly did," said Kimiko primly. "Honestly, Steven, you're a splendid negotiator.  Didn't you realize he's just playing hard to get for form's sake?  He opened champagne with my mother the moment you left."

Steven started to protest.  She held a finger to his lips, stilling the words before they were spoken.  "Lord William does not deserve you, my love.  Let's be honest.  Much to the despair of my mother, I've never aspired to run a great House.  Becoming the future Lady Ellison doesn't hold a lot of allure for me.  I'm perfectly happy in my laboratory, without all the responsibilities protocol demands.  I want a life partner, not a life role."

 Her response, so sincerely given, took his breath away. "Kimi -"

"Shh," she said gently.  "I have no desire to discontinue our relationship, or the negotiations between our Houses.  If it isn't House Ellison to House Akiyama, so much the better. Fewer entanglements to deal with."  Kimi picked up her chopsticks and fed Steven a morsel with a lovely smile on her face.

How he loved that smile.  Steven stroked her cheek gently.  "You would have been a wonderful consort. Beautiful.  Brilliant.  You could run a great House in your sleep.  There's nothing you can't do."

"Ah.  So you love my practicality," she teased.

Steven dropped the chopsticks in favor of tickling her ribs, "You know better."

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Well, being a practical girl, doesn't this mean you're sort of a free agent?  You can't very well ask the fearsome Lord William's consent if he's already disowned you."  Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

"You absolutely refuse to be serious about this," he scolded.

"I do, and I'm seriously practical. If he's foolish enough to let you go, it will be House Akiyama's gain.  If you still feel the same about me, press forward.  Settle this while he has no right  to complicate our lives.  If he comes to his senses, he's crossed a greater hurdle than your choice of a joined partner.  By comparison to being defied over the direction of the future of the House, Kimiko Akiyama is hardly a blip on the scanners."

"You mean it?"

"If my father was home, I'd drag you there this instant.  We're probably the only aristocrats in Cascade who aren't at the festivities."

"Festivities?"  Steven put a little distance between them with a frown. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Ouch.  You really have been out of touch.  Philip Plummer was elevated to Head of House this afternoon.  I should have attended the ceremony with my parents, but I begged off the Investiture to come here instead."

"What?"  Steven gaped at his companion, half sure that she was teasing him yet again. "Investiture? Kimi, don't joke about these things."

"I'm not joking in the least. I was thrilled to come here. The last thing I wanted to do was spend a couple of hours standing around in formal attire." She sipped her wine. "I do wish Philip well.  He's the least offensive of the siblings, and Melissa is a lovely person.  Although I should more correctly say Lady Plummer."

Steven was incredulous.  "Carolyn was here just a couple of hours ago, shrieking some hysteria about her brothers.  She wanted to know where Philip was.  I had no idea what she was babbling about."

Kimi looked knowingly across her glass at him. "Well, how amusing. Apparently, she was right about them being up to something."

"Not exactly.  She certainly didn't know Philip was being elevated, she just couldn't find him.  She threatened me with a discharge weapon.  I thought I was a goner."

"Well, according to Father, she and Gerald are under Council of Lords detention to ensure they won't cause a problem. If Carolyn threatened you in any way, you should notify Council of Lords Security.  I hope they throw away the key."

Steven drained his glass and took another helping of sushi. "I don't believe it. Whatever went down, I'm sure my dear Father was in the middle of it."  He shook his head.  "Every time I think I've plumbed his depths and understand what he's really thinking, he pulls off something I'd never suspect.  Philip.  Well I'll be…"

&&&&&

Bradley Ventriss stopped his pacing. It wasn't as if his detention cell was going to reveal anything new to look at.  It was small, of course.  He could cover it corner to corner in five full steps.  Infuriated by his session with that female viper security officer Connor, and his sniveling advocates, he'd no doubt covered the equivalent of the Ventriss estate in five step intervals.

A low ledge lined three of the walls, one end dedicated to a sleeping platform.  On the opposite side, the smallest feeding station he'd ever seen spit out the most unappetizing nutritional pap known to human kind.  He'd refused the first two offerings outright. The last, euphemistically signaled in the cell as "Evening Repast", consisted over a thin algal soup, a dried apple chips and a processed grain wafer that had somehow escaped from a Level Four Citizen's Market.  Finally overcome by hunger, he'd gagged his way through the soup, and swallowed the apple chips without chewing. He wasn't desperate enough to touch the grain wafer. Annoyed all over again, he crossed from his position by the sleeping platform to the feeding area - exactly three and a half steps - and snapped the wafer and let the fragments drop from his fingers.  On second thought, maybe even the Level Fours wouldn't touch this stuff.  What did the populace call it when they sold off the rejects? Sell off?  Marking out?  Marking down? By the ancestors, this was like some nightmare out of an old religious tract.  Purga-something?

He slumped into the single, molded seat. The fixed resource screen was print only - and who ever heard of a room without a holo or vid screen - was loaded with the Justice Code of Cascade Province and not much else. A few histories. A message from Provincial Rehab for those who wished to confess and proceed without encumbering Provincial Prosecution any further.  He'd beat himself unconscious on the floor of the cell before he accessed those.

He spun the screen on its narrow spindle in disgust.   What could have possibly happened to land him in this mess?  What had happened to his father? Or to Seneschal Knowleton, for that matter. An appalling thought, that he'd be glad to see Knowleton.  Surely Security Services couldn't have breached the estate without tripping the sensors.  Hadn't they rehearsed emergency evacuations enough times? Had they abandoned him on purpose? No, that couldn't be! Knowleton despised him, but not even Knowleton would stoop to that.

The lights began to dim dramatically, no doubt exactly as prescribed in some highly detailed protocol for humane inmate treatment. Humane, another ludicrous euphemism. His new reality was sinking in. He slid along the ledge to reach the sleeping platform and curled up on his side, facing the room. He'd been warned in orientation that he resource screen and feeding station automatically switched off for "night", and that "night" in detention ran exactly twelve hours, all in the name of providing a healthy environment for proper rest. Perhaps the oblivion of sleep was preferable to fretting in near-dark.

 His despair rose as he realized that none of this was accidental, but carefully thought out.  Bright lights round the clock would be inhumane.  So would poisoned food, or water deprivation.  Provincial Justice would never be so morally bereft as to mistreat a detainee.  The lights here were dimmed precisely according to the best diurnal rhythms, but never dark enough for truly restful sleep.  The food was nutritionally correct, but too bland to excite the palate. The temperature optimal for health, but without variation.  No comforting blankets, since it wasn't cold.  No iced drink, because it wasn't hot. 

After hours of raging about the indignities to his person and his status, a frightening realization dawned.  As a member of House Ventriss, he'd been able to influence, direct and coerce all his life.  Now he was truly helpless, and actually had nothing to really complain about. He was fed, he was clothed. He had advocates, as per the right of every citizen.  Every basic minimum of life was met.  If he fell ill, no doubt he would be given sufficient treatment to recover.  Every aspect of his existence was calibrated to be adequate, and endlessly, perpetually mundane.

He began to shiver. This is what his advocates had been trying to explain.  With the House assets unavailable to him, the justice protocols would run their course unabated. The evidence was irrefutable. With credits, he could potentially have financed a record failure here and there, convinced witnesses to disappear or recant.  Conflicting documentation could be fabricated.  Arrangements could be made.

Now he had no plausible defense.  His sentence would be appropriate and lengthy. He would spend years in perpetual, unending adequacy.  He would never be cold crossing the bridge into the Ventriss mountain retreat, snarl at rain dripping down his back or feel sunshine on his face while entertained friends on the estate's rooftop garden.  He would grow old, buried under monotony, a physical existence without a breath of life or joy.  The shivers became more violent.  He couldn't live this way. He couldn't die this way.

For the first time in his life, he was well and truly afraid.

&&&&&

"Lord Ellison, we have arrived. May I assist your departure?"

Lord William flung away the flyer restraints, gesturing to the tall officer standing at attention.  "Thank you, Captain Costello.  I need no assistance.  I'm sure that you've seen that our destination has been suitably prepared. How many officers in your detail?"

"Eight, Lord Ellison."

"In full uniform, I assume?"

"As ordered, Lord Ellison." Adrian Costello mentally ticked off anything he might have overlooked.  His orders were quite detailed, as he'd come to expect from Lord Ellison. A mind like a trap, that one. It was a bit unusual for a Head of House of such prominence to leave an Investiture early, but Ellison did nothing carelessly or by chance.

William stood and brushed a hand across his formal robes. "Assemble your detail as escort, and have the detention staff assemble along with our guests. You know the room I've selected, and how it should be arranged."  A slight smile flickered across Lord Ellison's face, which Costello found a bit ominous. "I think the sheer weight of numbers will add to occasion.  I wish to make a vivid impression on these two."

"Excellent, Lord Ellison." Costello waved his men into formation. He'd anticipated this request and assembled the staff and prisoners - correction, guests - while they were still in flight.  Dealing with Lord William Ellison was best done in anticipatory mode.  Presiding Office Lord Harcourt was a not-too-bright fluff of a man, easy to placate.  Not so Lord Ellison, who expected no less than perfection before he made a request. If he had to make a request, you'd already blown it.

Ellison stepped briskly from the Council of Lords flyer, acknowledging the customary courtesies as he threaded through the corridors.  The Plummer siblings had been isolated far from any possible assistance.  Not even the closest retainers of immediate family knew where they were.   Since House Plummer was in ruins, a summer lodge from one of the lower ranking families had been pressed into service.  Nothing special, which was opportune. When circumstances changed dramatically, it was best to make the point swiftly.

The lodge had a modestly sized sitting room. Lord Ellison had previewed the schematics and chosen the scene before he left the Investiture in the Council of Lords Ballroom.  As requested, the staff ringed the perimeter of the room, leaving Carolyn and Gerald seated in two straight-backed chairs, flanked on either side by a members of Costello's detail.  Captain Costello stood at attention to his immediate left, his discharge weapon plainly in sight.

"How dare you," Carolyn snarled, rising from her seat.  She was pushed down firmly by the nearest Council Security officer.  "Take your hands off me."

 _Well, that answered one question._ Costello noted that Carolyn was still in a rage, her entire body tense.  Gerald, on the other hand, looked thoroughly dazed.  Predictably, Lord Ellison held his gaze until Gerald looked away in silence.   Dominance established, Lord Ellison began to speak.  "Gerald Plummer and Carolyn Plummer, this audience carries the full weight of your ruling Council of Lords.  I, Lord William Ellison, am their appointed representative.  Are you prepared to receive our directives?"

Gerald threw his head back with some semblance of remaining pride, as if the words had stirred some fiber in this first son. If appearance was all that it took to lead a House, Gerald would have suited admirably.  "I, Gerald Plummer of House Plummer, await the directive of my pledged authority."

For a brief moment, the silence hung heavy. Carolyn maintained her silence, her lip trembling in rage.  Finally, Gerald nudged his sister.  "Oh, by the ancestors, give it up Carolyn.  You've been outmaneuvered.  Let's get this over with."

"You received me as family, you bastard," she hissed at Lord Ellison.

To Costello's surprise, Lord Ellison didn't have a moment to respond.  Gerald beat him to it. "Get a grip on your temper, woman, or you'll find yourself without family at all." His shoulders sagged a bit as he studied Lord Ellison, resplendent in his formal regalia.  "I'm sure that's what Lord William is here to tell us all about it."

"Wisely said, Gerald.  Wisely said.  Carolyn, shall I have you removed?"

Carolyn breathed heavily and spoke through clinched teeth. "I, Lady Carolyn Plummer of House Plummer, await the directive of my pledged authority."

Not good enough.  William motioned two her guard, who hauled her to her recalcitrant feet. "All right!" she snarled. "We'll pretend this is somehow legitimate.  I, Carolyn of House Plummer, await the directive of my pledged authority." The final words came out in a rush.

A small table was brought forward and placed before the pair.  As tradition demanded, the parchments were weighted flat on the surface.  Shiny blue seals, the color of House Plummer, gleamed in the light. Gerald looked longingly at the document nearest him.  William understood it was a difficult moment.  Gerald undoubtedly had not expected to see such a document until he signed it as the new Head of House.

"Your Council of Lords, by direction of Presiding Officer Norman Harcourt, has unanimously broken House Plummer." Costello noted the sheen covering Gerald's eyes, although the man maintained his composure admirably. "Philip Reginald Albert, a male of the direct line, has been chosen, and confirmed as Head of House. He is now your sovereign Lord, Acknowledged and Invested.  Melissa, spouse of Philip, has been chosen Consort, confirmed and invested as Lady Plummer."

"I was eldest and heir.  I was allowed no appeal," Gerald managed to whisper.

"Nor will you be." 

Costello nearly winced at the harshness of those words. Lord Ellison was definitely not going to offer a sympathetic ear to these two.  "The treasonous actions of your father, former Head of House, who shall not be named, left us without option.  His schemes have brought unimagined consequences upon the House entrusted to him.  Both of you now have a single choice.  You may accept your new Head of House without reservation, or be permanently struck from House Plummer.  If you choose to deny your new Head of House, you will be handed over forthwith to Citizen's Services for appropriate placement among your new peers, as will all your dependents."

"I've done nothing to be struck from the line," Gerald protested desperately.  "Nothing at all."

"You're not Philip, you idiot," Carolyn snapped. "Baby brother is putting us in our place.  Not that he didn't have plenty of help."  She glared murderously at William.

Gerald's face was ashen.  "Lord William, please.  I was Lord-elect, the elder son.  My children - my children don't deserve this."

Even the steely Lord Ellison was touched by that plea. "Lord Philip asked me to convey to you, Gerald, that he concurs.  It is his wish that his nieces and nephews remain House Plummer regardless of your decision, although the line of succession will obviously be shuffled. He wishes you no ill will, only that you respect his authority as Head of House, and the resulting change in Succession."

"What Line of Succession?  How are our traditions honored by these actions?" Carolyn said bitterly.  "What a farce."

"Young woman, be silent!"  For the first time, Ellison showed a flash of real anger.  "You are both a traitorous daughter and a traitorous Seneschal.  Be grateful Lord Philip does not demand your life.  Your previous actions to depose Gerald as heir would certainly make it justified. I, for one, would have trouble denying the request."

Carolyn's erect posture wavered ever so slightly. Death of competing heirs was not unheard of, but rare, at least in recent times.  The threat was enough to get her attention.  She looked away, tears sparkling on her cheeks.

 _So that's why you volunteered to conduct this tragedy, and left Harcourt at the Investiture._ Costello realized the rumors were true.   By bearing this message from the Council personally, Lord Ellison had also managed to deliver a covert message to Carolyn without ever having to voice the threat directly. If Carolyn made any attempt to tarnish the reputation of House Ellison by being loose with her tongue, Ellison could and would crush her, all with the patina of official sanction.

Lord Ellison paused, apparently giving the pair a moment for reflection.  The tension in the room made the very air seem brittle.  "Should you choose to remain in House Plummer, you must accept the reality that the finances of the House are in grave condition.  Your personal estates are forfeit and shall be reviewed by Council of Lords auditors.  Your personal effects will be thoroughly searched before being returned to your possession. The education of your children will be transferred to the Council, and they will be trained for an adult role appropriate to their station.  You will be allowed to establish simple households with a suitable spending allowance, all to be supervised by a Conservator.  Lord Philip will be in complete control of House credit accounts. Part of his pledge to the Council is wise stewardship in the rebuilding the House.  He will brook no interference from either of you."

Gerald stood slowly, silently communicating to his guard that it was not an act of defiance.  For a moment he traced the seals on the nearer of the documents placed before him with his finger.  Using the ceremonial blade also provided, he lifted the seals from the parchment.

"Do you have the signing instrument?" he asked.

Lord Ellison withdrew his own stylus and handed it to Costello, who delivered it to Gerald.  In a large careful hand Gerald signed the document, speaking as he wrote in the old style.  "Before witnesses, I sever my claim as Heir-elect of House Plummer.  I do so in the name of all members of my line, now and in the future."  He returned the stylus to Costello's waiting hand. 

Escorted by Costello, Gerald stepped forward and knelt before Lord Ellison, as custom demanded.  He blinked away the glistening of tears, and managed to speak in a level tone.  "I, Gerald Eadelmarr Fairfax Plummer, accept Philip, of the direct line, as Lord Philip Plummer, my acknowledged Head of House.  I so pledge for myself, and in the name of all members of my line, now and in the future."  He swallowed hard, and struggled on.  "I will formally reaffirm this pledge publicly, at the time and choosing of Lord Philip."  He remained on one knee, staring forward, focusing on nothing.

Costello found himself nodding in approval. Gerald might be an intellectual lightweight, but it was well spoken for a man who had just experienced the worst of all possible reversals.  Ellison apparently appreciated his demeanor as well.  His tone was much kinder, almost gentle.  "I, Lord William Ellison, accept your pledge on the new Lord Plummer's behalf." 

Gerald rose.  "Am I to remain in detention?"

"In light of your sincere pledge, a security team will conduct you to your family home.  You will be under Council direction, but we will allow you to prepare your children and your joined partner for their transition.  All members of your family will immediately surrender any remaining insignia of your former station.  You will remain in seclusion until your vows to Lord Philip and your status are finalized."

"Lord William, my children - my sons - to be dragged from their home -"

Lord Ellison nodded.  "If your cooperation is sincere and continues, we may be able to complete the transition while you remain in your current home, to ease the shock on the young ones."

Gerald bowed his head formally.  "Thank you, Lord William."

A group of four in black and gray uniforms took their positions.  Gerald gave Ellison a long, searching look, and then glanced back at Carolyn, still simmering rebelliously from her original position.  "Please tell my brother that he will face no opposition from me and mine. He will be firm and fair, something I cannot say for the other contender."

Carolyn managed to restrain herself until Gerald had exited. Her eyes blazed. "Do you seriously think I'll just follow along."

 "No," Ellison said coldly. "Neither I nor your brother expect a meaningful pledge from you, Carolyn Frances.  For the record, state your intentions."

 "I am Seneschal of House Plummer. I had no role in my father's treason. You were present when I appealed to the Council of Lords to rescue our House from his misguided actions. I have done nothing to betray the trust placed in me.  I demand to address the Council, which is in keeping with our traditions and my station."

 Ellison's voice was stern.  "House Plummer has been broken, Carolyn Frances. You have no standing to claim an appeal. Once again, I ask you to state your intentions."

 Carolyn placed her hands on the parchment, covering the seals protectively.  "I do not sever my inherited claim as a legitimate heir of House Plummer. I refuse to remove the seals which represent my standing.  Philip is no more Head of House than one of the mutts in my father's kennels."

 "I expected as much, Carolyn Frances. In light of the consequences of your actions, I ask you a final time.  Will you reconsider and accept Philip as your Head of House, and retain your place in that House?"

 Carolyn's face contorted contemptuously. "Loyalty to a false Head of House is bereft.  I refuse. I am the legitimate acting Head of House by the Council's own decree."

Lord Ellison stood, shaking his head dramatically. The officer standing next to Carolyn pried the parchment from under her outstretched hands, passed it to Costello, who in turn passed it to Ellison.  While Carolyn struggled, he tore off the brilliant blue seals, one by one. With Costello's assistance, he used the House Plummer dagger to slash through the parchment.  The resulting shreds were gathered into a lidded metal bowl, to be returned to the Council for ceremonial destruction by burning. When the bowl was sealed, William addressed the guards, who now had Carolyn firmly restrained. "Officers, you may execute your orders."

Costello escorted Lord Ellison to the flyer. Carolyn's cries echoed in his ears, for some reason, bringing to mind an image of a beautiful swan plummeting to a fiery, painful end.

&&&&&


	3. Chapter 3

Guide Finding Chapter 3

 

"You just don't understand."

All of Jim's senses seemed to be firing at once, and they were all focused on his Guide.  The control they had so carefully practiced was an irrelevant memory. Blair sounded wrong, he even smelled wrong.  Jim's vision cycled up so it seemed like he was examining the man next to him through high magnification - the pores of his skin, then an eyelash, enormous and black.

Although Jim was frozen in place, Banks was up and out of his chair.  He had Sandburg by the shoulders.  "Guide Sandburg, calm down.  Your mother is safe, protected.  Norman Ventriss can't touch her here, and the officers we have here with you can't be purchased for any amount of credits."

 Blair's eyes went even wider.  "Do you seriously think this is about credits?  What Lord Norman can't buy, he can coerce.  Look at my mother and tell me that isn't so.  I wouldn't have helped Lord Norman for any amount of credit, or to spare my own life.  But my mother?"

"She didn't have the weight of Cascade Province behind her."  Simon continued in a similar vein, explaining the layers of protective procedures, the dependability of protection through Provincial Law and Justice.  The words bounced off Blair like photons reflecting from a light shield.

Jim was a little panicked himself. Despite the travails Sandburg had weathered with relative calm, something about this exchange had him totally rattled. Jim had just enough awareness to realize that he was spiraling out of control along with his guide. Was this some weird co-dependence thing? With sensory control a vain hope, he resorted to the only strategy he could devise.  He spun Blair out of Banks' grasp and crushed him against his chest.

As a remedy, the decision was lacking. The sensory signals from his guide were now coupled with touch, intensifying the unmanageable flood of information. He could actually feel Blair's heart pounding against his chest, the rhythm oddly irregular.  After a gasp of shock, Jim managed to sputter out a few words. "Slow it down, Chief! You're scaring me here. I'm losing it…"

As he wavered on his feet, Jim realized the clumsy attempt was succeeding.  Some innate Guide reflex was bringing Sandburg back into focus.  Jim gratefully followed in his wake, taking Blair's weight when he sagged into his arms.  Utilizing a gentle push from Simon, they collapsed together onto a wide seating bench that Daryl had just vacated.

Blair was breathing hard, but the storm was passing. "Sorry.  Sorry."  He looked up at Jim, clearly measuring the state of his sentinel.

"I'm fine, Chief."  Jim pressed the flat of his hand against Blair's ribs, feeling the thundering heat beat recede as if it were the tide.  "Take it easy. We're good here."

Blair's entire body seemed to slump. He leaned a bowed head against Jim as the tension in his body seeped away.

"Talk to me, Chief," Jim said gently, trying very hard to keep any reproach out of his voice.  "What was this about?"

Blair pushed away from Jim's grasp, straightening into a semblance of attention.  When he spoke, his voice was oddly flat and detached.  "My apologies, Captain."

Simon exchanged a wary look with Jim. Both of them knew how critical Sandburg's testimony would be.  "I don't need an apology, Guide Sandburg.  I do need an explanation."

Blair's eyes looked faraway and sad. "Captain, I appreciate the standards maintained by your service.  A bribe - Lord Norman wouldn't waste the time."  For the first time Blair met Simon's gaze head on. "How long would you follow your duty if your son were in jeopardy?  If you couldn't protect him, or if he'd been compromised somehow?"

Simon started to bluster a protest and then went silent.

Blair continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Think how easy it really is, to compel through a threat.  You can't stop it, because the possibilities are endless.  The child of your food supplier.  The spouse of a Level Four medical attendant.  A data clerk with a secret waiting to be exposed.  All the people who make this place, or any place work, every one of them has someone they care about, some pressure point.  He can do it, Captain.  He does it all the time."

"Not if we stop him.  We try harder, we work harder.  We outsmart him."

All three men turned towards the voice. Daryl Banks was shaking his head in denial.  "You were alone, Blair.  All alone, everything you say is true."  Daryl gestured to the other two men, and around the general area of the safe house itself. "You're not alone now. We back each other up. We can beat him if you help us. Expose him for the predator he is. It's the only way your mother will ever really be safe and you know it."

Blair was motionless.  Not knowing what else to do, Jim wrapped his own hand around Blair's wrist, hoping to convey the support he couldn't seem to verbalize. Blair lifted his chin slightly, and stated quietly, "I'm afraid of Ventriss, of what he can do. Even now."

"But you'll do it?" Jim asked. "You'll give evidence?" _And be my Guide, once you're completely free of him._

Blair swallowed hard.  He looked pale and spent, but his voice was finally steady. "Captain, maybe you could suggest to Prosecutor Sanchez that I speak with her soon."

"I can do that, Guide Sandburg." Simon left Sentinel and Guide where they were seated, and pulled another chair close.  "As far as Major Incident is concerned, you're already one of us."

"Thank you, Captain.  Not everyone would be so generous with their confidence."

"Daryl, I left a secure carrier in the other room. Would you mind getting my vid recorder? If everyone is in agreement, I'd like to start organizing some preliminary evidence right now."

Blair looked away, but nodded.  Jim noticed that his Guide's focus was no longer on the men next to him or the room he sat in, but another scene, perhaps a memory, infinitely more ominous.

&&&&&

Joel Taggert kept his eyes on the scanner console before him, trying very hard to ignore the minuscule distance Henri Brown was maintaining between their flyer and the tree cover below.  Cyrus Graden's advice had been very specific. If a transport hideaway did exist in this area, they would have to be very close to detect any anomaly over the erratic character of the rock itself, and that meant ditching the autopilot. S.I. Brown had a fine hand with the thrusters, but Taggert knew only too well the difficulties of flying manually in low light conditions.

After his consultation at Rainier, Taggert had been resigned to waiting for a new day and examining the area on foot. He'd already turned in an expedited requisition for the use of the personal hover equipment Professor Graden alluded to.  Even an officer of his rank needed special approval for devices intended for military use. Rafe and Brown, however, thought it was worth taking a shot in the fading light with a traditional flyer, and promptly volunteered.  Knowing the pair's reputation for ingenuity, Taggert had agreed, even thought chances of success weren't high.

Manning a second set of scanners, Rafe sighed in disgust. "Pull it up, H. We'll have to make another pass, but I think we should move to the other side of the slot."

Henri nodded and brought the flyer into a slow spiral upwards, clearly grateful to rely on the the auto systems for a while. "The light's almost gone. Are we getting anything?"

"I thought so, right in here." Rafe gestured to the holo suspended between the three men.  It was a detailed projection, using additional geographic and geologic data supplied by Professor Graden.   Combined with security sensors, it should show every known aspect of the topography below them. 

"Right over the slot, just past that outcrop?" Taggert asked.  "I thought so, too, but my scans were jumping all over in that section.  If I understood Professor Graden correctly, it could be the water turbulence below generating interference."

"Or the mineral content of the rock, or some weird counter-surveillance gear," Henri said, rolling his shoulders to relieve the stress of piloting the flyer at the very limits of its technical specs. 

"How are we doing for fuel," Taggert asked. The fine positioning thrusters ran on a totally different system than the main fuel banks, and had to be replenished more frequently.  "What pass was that anyway, seven or eight?"  He rubbed at his eyes fretfully.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a truly restful night of sleep.

"That was number six," Rafe said. He looked dubiously through the side view screen.  The sun's disk was slipping behind the nearest peak as he spoke.  "H, I love your flying, but I don't want to try that again in the dark."

"Captain Taggert, do we really have to turn this over to the Science Services people?" Henri asked.  "I want Ventriss bad.  He scooted right out from under my nose.  I think you're on to something.  We've almost got it.  I can practically feel it."

"I appreciate you boys volunteering for this, but I can't pull you off your other duties,"  Taggert said regretfully.  "Brown, plot our course back to Major Incident, but lift to surveillance height and follow this drainage back to Cascade."

"Human activity, Captain?" Rafe asked, anticipating his superior's train of thought. 

"Got it in one, Rafe.  Henri, keep our speed down so the sensors can get a real thorough look."

While Rafe made the change in the sensory array, Brown guided the flyer higher and set their course.  Once the flyer assumed control, he broke out what would pass for an evening meal.  He handed a sandwich to Taggert with a shrug.  "I ordered from the meal suite while you guys were getting the flyer ready." Rafe rapped him across the shoulder with the back of his hand.  "Hey, if you're not hungry, I don't have to share."

"Very nice," Taggert said around the first bite in his mouth.  "Cheese? Real cheese, from actual milk?"

"Rhonda, the miracle woman," Henri said with a grin, and without looking up from his fork.

"I'm not complaining," Taggert said, relishing another bite.

They were nearly to the Boundary when the sensor chimed. Rafe fine tuned the input. "You were right, Captain. Two - no three people at least, camped for the night, tucked under that overhanging ledge.  From the arrangement of it, I'd say it's a lookout."

Henri banked the flyer slowly west, keying the security codes that would take them through the boundary shields. "You know, Captain Taggert, nobody hangs out here in the cold to watch if there's nothing to see. I bet we could be out here before those boys even rolled out of bed."

"I'll bring the breakfast, Captain," Rafe volunteered.

"I should have known," Taggert said. "H, find out when dawn is tomorrow. We'll leave an hour before first light."

 &&&&&

 "Captain Costello, Lord Ellison is asking for you. He'd like to speak with you before we dock with the Ellison House transport.

 Costello looked up from his command display. "Is the docking procedure in hand? I don't want any delays in Lord Ellison's departure."

"We're ready, Sir.  I've double checked everything."

"Well, triple check it," Costello said, standing. "This is Ellison we have on board, not some lightweight who doesn't know any better."

By the time he reached the private cabin, Lord Ellison had changed out of his formal robes.  He was no less intimidating in the perfectly tailored cashmere, and the Ellison crest gleamed prominently at his breast.  His personal attendant, Dylan McCabe, was packing the last of the his formal attire, whispering in a voice too soft for Costello to hear.

Costello came to a stop precisely two feet in front of the seated man, assuming the position of attention.  "Lord Ellison, I was informed you wished to speak with me." 

"I did.  Has our female detainee been secured?"

 _So you won't even refer to her as Lady Carolyn, or Carolyn Plummer._   "As you requested, Lord Ellison.  Two of my most trusted men conveyed her.  She was sedated for the transfer, and my men remained as her guard.  She does not know her location, as you requested."

"Excellent.  The detention team?"

"Arranged.  My team and I are the only individuals who know her location. I will accompany the interrogation team tomorrow, as you directed."

"Let me confirm, Captain  Costello.  I am your only point of contact with the Council.  As far as your service is concerned, you and your attendant details are directly under my control.  I hold you responsible for their discretion."

"It shall be done, Lord Ellison." _You old fox. Harcourt doesn't stand a chance against you.  I wonder what you really want out of this._

"Your efficiency in this matter is noted, Captain Costello.  Rest assured that it will be noted in your performance review.  And Gerald Plummer?"

"He has arrived at the family home. His escort reports that there is no evidence of deception.  There has been no interference with our searches.  The family's retainers have been dismissed, with the exception of the children's amah and a single member of the kitchen staff."

"Good.  Some accommodation must be made to avoid unnecessary distress for the children. Our next generation should not join our ranks with bitterness.  Your impression of the eldest Plummer sibling, Captain?"

Costello was instantly wary.  "It would be a hard thing to bear, Lord Ellison. He seems - resigned. You may see a change when he recovers from the shock."

"For now that's sufficient.  I would expect some level of rebellion eventually, but he'll be closely watched.  I suspect he realizes that he would come out the loser to both of his siblings under these dire circumstances."

A low chime indicated that docking was being initiated. "If you will allow me, Lord Ellison, I will escort you to your House flyer.

"Not necessary, Captain.  McCabe will accompany me."  Costello extended courtesy, and saw William to the docking area. He remained at attention while the transfer structure was extended and attached to the smaller House Ellison ship, inwardly exhorting his own pilot to hold the vessel steady for a flawless procedure.

When all was in place, McCabe crossed, securing Lord Ellison's effects.  Just before crossing himself, Lord Ellison turned abruptly for one final word. "Have a care, Captain Costello. You've been charged with a delicate task.  Conduct yourself accordingly."

With that final warning, Lord William Ellison descended into his own vessel.  As it arced into the growling gloom, Costello wondered if juggling poisonous snakes might be a more rewarding profession.

&&&&&

"Captain, I think we should take a break. Maybe grab something to eat."

 The moment he spoke, Jim half wished he could take the words back.  It was an article of faith in Major Incident that you did not interrupt a productive interrogation, not for fire, flood, insurrection or bureaucrats, petty or otherwise, who didn't have enough to do.  You especially didn't gum up the works when your superior was doing the interviewing. Blair nearly jumped out of his skin, clearly focused completely on the evidence he was giving, and unprepared for an interruption.  Simon glared and keyed in an abrupt halt to the vid recording.

"Ellison, are you out of your mind?" His tone was enough to make Jim flinch, much less Sandburg.

"Maybe, but it's still time to stop." Jim slipped behind Blair's seat, sliding his palms over Sandburg's shoulders.  He felt very uncomfortable monitoring the younger man from a distance, if that was in fact what he was doing.  Whatever it was, he was getting the same weird vibe - the ragged breathing, the impression of heat, a subtle change in posture that seemed to indicate a growing fatigue. "Sorry, Captain. I guess it's a sentinel thing."

Blair swiveled in his chair to look at Jim over his shoulder.  "I'm fine, Jim. Captain Banks is probably - ". He stopped speaking and squirmed around in the chair, grasping for Jim's hand.  "Are your senses bothering you?  Talk to me, Jim."

Jim realized, somewhat unfairly, that for his captain and his guide, this was the excuse that seemed to trump all others. He felt like a duplicitous shit, but decided to run with it.  Since he didn't have a clue how to interpret what he was getting from Sandburg, it seemed like an easy out.

"Uh, I think it's my hearing." _By the ancestors, what am I_ _doing? Lying to a superior officer?_ "Kind of loud one second and then gone the next."

Blair was out of his chair in a flash, all business, talking and moving at the same time.  "It's just a little spike, perfectly normal for a new sentinel. We can handle this. If you'll excuse us, Captain."

Before Jim could protest, Blair took his hands and rearranged them in that odd pulse to pulse grip.  Now things did seem too loud - no, that wasn't right. He was just very aware of Blair, as if the smaller man was looming over and around him, to the exclusion of the other occupants in the room.

Well, it seemed best to go with it. With a small slice of his conscious mind, Jim followed the subsequent conversation between Daryl and Simon; arranging a meal for four, touching base with the far flung members of Major Incident, something about the arrival of Naomi Sandburg's medical team. Before he really realized it, Blair had maneuvered them into his own suite, seated him in a comfortable chair, while Blair perched on a footstool before him.  "This is good practice, Jim.  This isn't an emergency or anything.  Unless you're having a problem with smell, breath is usually the place we start.  Regulating breath sends a message to your other bodily systems, slowing things down when your hypersenses are trying to wind things up.  Close your eyes, let your hands go limp in mine.  This is about focus and calm."

To Jim's surprise, it wasn't all that hard to follow Blair's directions.  Even more surprising, he actually felt better, losing a lot of little irritating things he'd been ignoring.  His undertunic stopped itching just above his elbow.  A low whine, apparently generated by the safe house scanning and isolation systems, sort of disappeared, along with tinges of a headache that was nagging right behind his eyes.

He lost track of time, and the next time he really noticed, Blair was standing, complimenting him on how well he'd handled the exercise, like Jim had accomplished something quite remarkable.  Exercise?  Seriously?

The whole Sentinel thing was weird.  But Blair seemed happy, and Jim could smell what must be their meal.  To his surprise, he could make a list - tomato, garlic, something earthy, that must be mushroom.  Then he put it together, a pasta dish with sauce and something spicy. Simon was partial to some kind of imported sausage from Mediterranean Province, and Security Services safe houses were well known for supplying little luxuries for their occupants. Maybe he was taking advantage of the opportunity.

Pasta with sauce it was, with a host of sautéed vegetables, some sort of chilled grain salad mixed with fruit, and an apple dessert that had Jim's mouth watering on sight.  He slid eagerly into a seat, suddenly conscious of the number of decent meals he'd missed in the last few days.  Predictably, Blair seemed overwhelmed by what he regarded as largess and luxury.  Jim, in a not entirely selfish move, distracted him by soliciting advice on how to manage the intense flavors of the sausage in the pasta.  At every possible excuse, he kept refilling Sandburg's plate. Daryl seemed to pick up on the strategy, and teased Blair into another helping of dessert without much obvious effort.

Simon seemed to have forgiven him for interrupting the earlier evidence session.  Jim chose a lull in the conversation during the post-meal coffee to ask about the schedule.

"I contacted Beverly Sanchez while you two were occupied.  She would like to see both of you, late afternoon tomorrow.  Besides, giving you down time will get the medical people off my back. Taggert, Rafe and Henri are following up on some hunch they have about finding Ventriss."

The mere mention of the name seemed to deflate Blair's mood. "Have they found Lord Norman?" he asked.

"Not yet.  They have some wild scheme that Ventriss could have dropped a transport into some concealed dock that our sensors don't detect.  Taggert swears they'll be in on time tomorrow. I hated to press him for details." Simon to a long sip of coffee, clearly savoring the taste.  "It's probably better I don't know."

"Taggert could be right, you know," Jim said, his voice rather distant.  "The Houses have lots of leftovers from the real chaos times.  Bolt holes were the rule, not the exception." He glanced in Blair's direction.

"You speak from experience, Jim?  Anything you want to share?"

The stormy session with Steven and his father pricked at Jim's conscience.  "I was the firstborn son, Simon, trained as any heir-elect is trained, to run a House of power and prestige.  Yes, I speak from experience.  I don't know House Ventriss specifically, but I can sure make an educated guess."

"Anything specific we can use?" Simon asked pointedly.

 "House Ellison isn't under investigation. I see no reason to discuss their practices.  I'm just pointing out it makes sense.  From Blair's testimony, Ventriss had all manner of illegal and illicit goods around, and treated that as the norm.  Those goods have to be brought in somehow, and obviously, our normal security procedures aren't hindering him.  Smuggling is the obvious answer, and they have plenty of property from the Great Unrest that would be off the Provincial Records."

Simon clearly wasn't happy with the guarded response, but apparently decided to relent.  "Under the circumstances, I won't push the point. Steven Ellison has more than earned that deference.  Have you heard from him?"

Jim shook his head.  "I have flash communications set up with him. He'll contact me when he has something to say."  Something in his posture and expression clearly communicated that he'd appreciate a change in conversation topic.

As it would happen, Daryl brought the desired distraction. "Dad, Naomi Sandburg's medical specialists are signaling.  They'd like to be brought in for docking."

Jim started to rise.  Officially, he was on duty, in charge of security for both Sandburgs.  "Stay put," Simon said.  "I'll take care of it."  He gulped the last of his coffee and looked significantly in Blair's direction.

Jim took the hint.  He slid over closer to Blair.  "I'm sure she's better, Chief.  Don't borrow trouble until we actually hear it."

The look in Blair's eyes told him the truth, that Blair and his mother had seen more than their share of misfortune, and "borrowing" didn't really figure into it.

&&&&&

Liam Kelley reviewed the coded dispatches coming in on his com.  Two more Brigade members taken by Security Services.  More flyers in and out of the Security Services safe house.  Frazier Thomas was young.  Could he be exaggerating, or mistaking normal traffic for official movements? Assuming he was correct, Security Services definitely wasn't following standard protocols to keep a location hidden. That procedural change could stem from overconfidence, or some desperate need. 

Kelley studied the holoimage his observer had sent. Not a troop transport. Was that a medical designator? Interesting possibility. Someone in that safe house was ill or injured.  That would explain the flurry of traffic, and could give him a weak point he could exploit. Somehow he had to find an opening. Commander Kincaid's demands were getting increasingly frenzied and unreasonable.  Kelley really didn't want to become the focus of the man's frustrations.

What should he do about Frazier?  The kid wasn't well trained.  The longer he stayed on watch, the greater the likelihood the Security Services would notice.  He should send someone to relieve him, but who?  Every time he moved Brigade members into new positions, half of them were picked up.

He was running out of men.  And time.

&&&&&

"I will say it again, Steven. You are my choice, not House Ellison. You have assets, I have assets. We're both educated and talented. We can both make our way financially. We can form a happy life together, and provide a future for our children."

Their conversation had taken a very serious turn. Kimiko had made her feelings emminently clear.  To her way of thinking, Steven's release from his Seneschal duties was the clearing of an entanglement, not a hindrance.

"The Houses are on the cusp of great change -"

"And you know I share your views on that. It does not deter me in the least."

"Kimi, I admire your courage, but we must be honest. Our own history shows us that in time of conflict, affiliation to a House is a great protection."

"I sat through the same classes, Steven. In case you've forgotten, being an aristocrat in France was great right up until the moment they were dragged off to the guillotine.  And what about the 99 Militia or the Wall Street Massacre on this continent? Shall I go on?"

"My father can also show you the bunker where HIS grandfather and father held off the mob during the last period of unrest. James and I used to play in the water and fuel storage.  My father would be the first one to tell you that the farms on Ellison land aren't there for decoration.  This isn't something we should dismiss lightly."

"Steven."  Kimi set down her glass and took both his hands.  "We dismiss nothing.  Your father's actions are not under our control.  We make choices for ourselves, by ourselves."

"You're right."  Steven looked away, his gaze landing on the painting on the opposite wall, depicting a sweeping panorama of the Ellison lands. "I guess - "

"What?" Kimi asked softly.

"I wanted you to have all of it, everything that goes with being consort of Head of House."

She looked at him tenderly.  "A fine sentiment, but I've found that 'everything' is highly overrated."  He pulled her close and she sighed, her slim body resting against his.  "If he gives you an avenue back, and it makes you happy, I will be happy for you.  I simply maintain that our decisions are independent of his.  Let's move on with our lives."

Steven buried his face in her hair, hugging her more tightly.

"Your young lady displays great strength. I should like to know her better."

The unexpected voice had Steven bounding to his feet, shoving Kimiko behind him protectively.  Visions of Carolyn Plummer's earlier intrusion sent him lunging for the stun pods he'd left on the table.  "Get out of my house!"  he snarled as a figure moved forward towards them.  How had someone gotten through his landing dock without tripping the security systems?

"I sympathize with the impulse, although I believe I'll stay."  Steven's jaw dropped in shock as his father moved fully into the light.  "Mistress Akiyama, I beg your pardon for the interruption."

Kimiko stepped from behind Steven's protective stance. Her eyes glittered with anger, but she extended the courtesies due a head of house with her usual grace. Her voice, however, was ice. "Lord Ellison, I believe it is not my pardon you should beg.  I saw Steven set the exterior security codes.  Your behavior, Lord Ellison, does not reflect courtesy."

"Are you always so direct with your opinions, Mistress Akiyama?"

"When the situation warrants." Kimi's hand tightened around Steven's elbow.

"I see.  You should certainly meet my elder son, James.  I suspect you would find in each other a kindred spirit." He glanced about the room, bringing his gaze back to his son.  "In any case, your young lady is correct.  I apologize for the intrusion.  Steven, I'd be grateful to share some of that wine.  It's been a rather long day."

Warily, Steven gestured toward the nearest armchair, poured another glass of wine and handed it to his father. "I understand you've been busy today."

"Rather."  William said vaguely, and sipped the wine. "From our eastern vineyards?"

"I'm sure you could name the specific vineyard and the year.  I've never had your palate, Father.  Perhaps you can enlighten me.  Carolyn Plummer was here earlier. It wasn't a pleasant visit. She had a discharge weapon. Apparently her histrionics had the seeds of truth."

"A discharge weapon.  By the ancestors!  Forgive me Steven, but the sorry plight of the Plummer tribe can wait." He tipped his glass toward Kimiko. "You wish to be joined, I presume."

Steven sat down, pulling Kimiko with him. He covered her hands in his own, and searched her eyes for one final sign of consent.  It came with a smile and not the slightest hint of hesitation. "That is our intention. Lord Akiyama has been open to my earlier inquiries.  Kimiko has also consented despite my diminished circumstances."

 

"Yet you did not share your intentions with me." William raised an eyebrow, his annoyance clear.

Steven hesitated, knowing full well the implications of the tone in his father's voice.  He didn't want to have this conversation in front of Kimiko, and risk allowing her to hear the pronouncements that might emerge from his father's mouth. It might not be possible over time to spare her Lord William's scathing disapproval, but he had no intention of standing by and giving his father a free hand.  In the moment it took him to consider the correct strategy, Kimiko settled the matter.

"Steven has already informed me of your opinion some time ago.  If I recall, his words were, 'An Ellison can do better than the daughter of a second rate House.' I would have greater consideration for the opinion if you had actually known me at the time."

William showed no reaction to Kimi's rather inflammatory remark.  He studied her over his glass.  "You're correct. An uninformed opinion, given flippantly, when I had no idea how serious my son was.  Rest assured, I remedied the situation immediately."

Steven inwardly cringed.  He had no doubts as to the resources, or the ruthlessness, Lord William could bring to bear when confronting a problem. 

"And now?" Kimi asked fearlessly, obviously in a mood to take no prisoners.  Steven winced, unable to change the trajectory of the moment.  Kimiko was the one likely to be mauled in the confrontation.

For a moment, Steven expected his father to dismiss her question curtly.  Instead, to Steven's surprise, William leaned forward, a pose he used when negotiating with an equal. "House Akiyama does not currently possess the social standing of the Founding Fifty. That is a function of history, not current competence.  As my son stated so eloquently earlier today, our society, our Province, is stressed to the point of radical change.  In such times, old relationships are - reevaluated.  Should I continue, Mistress Kimiko?"

"Your son has accepted you as a guest in his home. You are his father, and of course you should feel free to speak.  If you need to ask, ask your son."

"But?  Finish your thought, young woman."

"To use your words, rest assured your opinion is of no importance to me whatsoever."

Steven was horrified.  This was like poking the sleeping dragon.  There was nothing left other than to let disaster crash down around their ears.

William laughed.  "Mistress Kimiko, House Akiyama and a few other young Houses are setting a new standard for excellence.  Additionally, I have been led to understand that you personally are brilliant, highly inventive, articulate and driven. You respect your parents but are not afraid to chart your own course.  Your demeanor is elegant, discreet, wise beyond your years, confident with a strong streak of independence."

"You forgot beautiful," Kimiko said, tilting her head in a gesture Steven recognized from their rare disagreements, or right before Kimi was about to announce checkmate in chess - again. She wasn't done. "I also speak four languages and excel at the defensive martial arts.  I like chocolate and peaches."

"Young woman, you are bold." William's eyes flickered to Steven and back to Kimiko.  "You are, simply put, the diamond of your generation.  If my son asks me, I would counsel him that you would be a challenging spouse, and as a joined partner, an asset beyond price."

Kimiko blinked in surprise.  Steven knew his jaw was hanging open and didn't care. William didn't pause long enough for either of them to comment or recover.

"Mistress Kimiko, as my son's future intended, I would ask you to remain.  I think it wise you be present."  He reached into his coat and placed the House Ellison Seneschal device on the table between them. "Steven, events are moving quickly. I believe we have much to discuss."

&&&&&

"Why are they taking so long?" Blair said, rising again to pace across the main reception area of the safe house.

Banks cast a long-suffering look at Jim. Under normal circumstances, a trademark Simon Banks bellow would have been in order.  Jim appreciated that his Captain was trying to tone things down around Sandburg, who hadn't really experienced a good moment since being hauled out of the Guide Placement Center.  "Guide Sandburg, these are the specialists, not the run of the mill medical techs. I'm sure they're getting all the information to give us a complete evaluation."

Blair stopped his frantic pacing practically in mid-stride. "Do you know these people, Jim?"

Daryl loosed an unmistakable snort of amusement.

"That's enough from you, kid," Jim snapped. "Actually, Chief, I try not to spend a lot of time with the medics.  Not enough to get to know them on a first name basis."

"He means that he's more focused on escape than actually getting treated," Daryl said, obviously undeterred by Jim's tone. "Dad usually has to sit on him."

"You're a big help," Simon said sarcastically. "Guide Sandburg, Senior Medic McCarthy and Microsurgeon Lake are under retainer to Security Services because of their skills.  Any seriously injured senior officer falls under their care, and they regularly consult with medical professionals in the Province.  Your mother is getting the best of care."

"Blair, it will make you feel better, I'll call Steven," Jim said.  "He and I discussed this earlier.  If you want, I can have a House Ellison specialist here in an hour."

"You most certainly will not, Ellison! This is a safe house, not an aristocrat supper club."

Jim winced.  Apparently the armistice on yelling only extended to Sandburg.  He'd have to train his Captain to the reality of sentinel hearing, or learn to adjust more quickly.  "That wasn't a frivolous statement, Captain.  If Sandburg wants another opinion, he'll get it. I used House Privilege to get the case against Ventriss rolling in the first place.  I'll do it again in a heartbeat."

Their brief confrontation was interrupted by the entrance of the medical personnel.  While Blair was distracted by their appearance, Jim engaged in a silent face-off with his superior, clearly indicating the subject was tabled but not closed. McCarthy and Lake were escorting Blair into the small conference room, which put Jim on edge. He associated formal settings with bad news, not good.

Senior Medic McCarthy began with a comprehensive list of Naomi's injuries, the treatments they had initiated for each and the rationale for their selections.  Blair sat quietly, hands folded on the table, but totally focused.  Jim had been informed that his guide was considered an academically gifted man.  He suspected that Blair would be able to recite every last detail of the presentation if necessary.  Microsurgeon Lake gave a summary of her procedures, those that she was able to complete and those which were still pending. 

"Will you begin those procedures soon?" Blair asked.

Microsurgeon Lake looked pained.  "I'm afraid that will not be possible." She looked at McCarthy, and at his nod, continued.  "We wanted you to realize the difficulties we faced.  Initiation of the regeneration process is critical. There are no documented cases of delayed onset.  Blair Sandburg, there is no sign of regeneration anywhere in your mother's body, not at the organ level, not at the cellular level.  I'm so very sorry. We can't explain it."

"No regeneration?  None at all?" Blair managed to stammer. "But you should see a cellular response almost immediately.  You doubled her dosage."

Senior Medic McCarthy shook his head before answering. "We've reviewed her recent progress, as well as made a detailed search of her medical records that Steven Ellison made available to us.  The Ventriss personnel - I will not call them Medics - brought your mother out of medisleep over thirty times, and those are the instances with documentation. We suspect there were more. There is no indication of any effort towards stabilization after any of those transitions."

"What does that mean?" Blair asked. The expression on his face alone was enough to send Jim to stand behind his chair, his broad hands on his Guide's shoulders.

"It means that in addition to her other macro injuries, each transition degraded her major organs.  There is a catastrophic cumulative effect. We believe she no longer possesses the ability to regenerate with any treatment we now have."

"No," Blair whispered.  "No.  Not after all she - we've been through.  No."

"I'm afraid we need to present you with a very difficult decision, Guide Sandburg," Microsurgeon Lake said. "Her vital signs are ebbing rapidly.  We may be able to bring her to full consciousness for a short time, and allow you a moment to say goodbye, or to give testimony, if you believe that is in keeping with her wishes. Otherwise it might be kinder to let her go, peacefully, without attempting further procedures."

Jim could feel his Guide's shoulders shaking under his hands, and he could smell what he realized were Blair's tears. He looked helplessly at Simon and Daryl, who were standing near each other close to the doorway of the conference area. Daryl looked truly stricken. Simon was gazing up at the ceiling, murmuring to himself.  He didn't intend to share his thoughts, but Jim's hearing was too good.

"Our case.  That bastard Ventriss is going to get away with it."

Jim involuntarily tightened his grip on Blair's shoulders. Simon wasn't an inhumane man. He wasn't immune to suffering, but he was merely stating the truth.  Without Naomi's corroborating testimony, it would be much harder to bring Ventriss to justice.

He pulled a chair close and sat beside Blair. This man had saved his life, and Jim owed a debt of gratitude at the very least.  A single trail of tears was snaking its way down Blair's face. "What do you think she would want, Chief?  What do you want?"

"How soon do I have to decide?" Blair asked, looking at the medical personnel with an expression that broke Jim's heart.

"If we do nothing other than the current protocol, we expect Naomi Sandburg will pass in the next twenty four hours, perhaps before the night is out," McCarthy said. 

Blair covered his face with his hands.

McCarthy continued in a low, strained voice, as if the words were painful even for him.  "If you believe she would wish to be brought to consciousness, we will flood her system with nutrients and shift our treatment emphasis from repair to stimulating the current functions she has.  She would be conscious in about eighteen hours, by our best estimate. Once conscious, she would have hours rather than days.  The time might be very brief. I'm so very sorry, Guide Sandburg."

Jim had never felt so helpless in all his life.

Blair struggled to his feet.  "My mother was - is - a free spirit, and she believes in the concept of karma.  She would want to hold Norman Ventriss accountable for what he's done, for Lady Elizabeth, no matter what it costs her personally.  Captain Banks, I trust you will make the arrangements to have Provincial Justice here to do their duty as soon as she is able."  He pushed awkwardly away from the table.  When he wavered on his feet, Jim was by his side instantly, keeping him balanced.  "Thank you both for your efforts.  I'm going to go sit with her now, before you begin."  He patted Jim on arm.  "Thanks Jim, but I need a few moments alone." 

Just before leaving the room, he turned.

"Jim?"

"Yes."

"Call Steven."

&&&&&

"Mama?"

Willa Gentry sat up with a start, and pushed off her covers. She had retired early - night fell quickly under the smoky pall over the Boundary - but hadn't fallen asleep. She'd given loose rein to many memories, of Colm, and her boys when they were small.  Her tiny quarters were palely alight with the glow of an old-fashioned battery driven air warmer. 

"Lynch.  Is that you?"

"Yes, Mama. May I come in?"

"Of course.  Is something wrong?  Put on the lights."

"This is fine."  Lynch sat cross-legged on the floor before her narrow pallet. "Honestly, we could arrange better quarters for you."

"You could, but I'm content here. To have more is to be envied more. You surely know how dangerous that can be."

"We don't flaunt what we have," Lynch said. "It wouldn't hurt to arrange a few comforts.  You've certainly earned them."

"You didn't come here to discuss my living quarters."

"No.  I've been thinking about what you said, about Ventriss."

Willa nodded.  Now was not the time to speak.

"I think you're right.  He went to ground, and he's looking for a way out."

"They'll be protected, Lynch. Armed.  The best security money can buy."

Lynch shrugged.  "I did some checking, and I think it's worth a quiet look at Cave Falls. I'm leaving as soon as the moon rises. I thought you might like to come along."

"And Trane?"

"Deep in his own plans, as I'm sure you expected." A wry smile crossed his face. "I've made some arrangements to cover my responsibilities while I'm away."

Willa's eyes crinkled in a smile.  "Been years since I prowled the night. I'd slow you down."

Lynch stood and extended his hand. "Remember that summer camp the Houses have for the aristo kids?  All the back to nature, swim in the lake, build a fire nonsense? I might have borrowed a couple of their pack animals."

"You what?!"

"They didn't miss them," Lynch said cheerfully. "I was careful. You game?"

"Ingenious.  Do they get picked up on the sensors?"

Lynch's grin got even broader.  "For some reason, they're more concerned with anything mechanized.  On the move, at night, I guess we look like elk out for a snack.  Never had anyone so much as look my way."

"Boy, sometimes you do remind me of your father. Get my coat, and I need to borrow a pair of boots."

&&&&&

"Steven, do let me pour the tea." Kimiko removed his hand from the pot, clearly amused.  "You really don't have the training to do it correctly - by gender or ancestry."

"I beg your pardon," Steven said in mock offense. "Mistress Sally taught me."

"And I'm sure she did her best. Be grateful I don't insist on starting from scratch.  Tea from a bag, indeed. In cups with a handle." She poured for three and handed the first cup across the table.  "Lord Ellison."

"With thanks.  I look forward to a more extensive lesson, Mistress Kimiko."

Steven sipped at his mug, shamelessly blowing across the surface.  The last hours had been difficult to process, and he could tell Kimiko had the same reservations. She was well aware his relationship with William Ellison was part father, part skilled politician, part Head of House with all that entailed, infinitely intertwined and complicated. While his father loved him, Steven knew Lord Ellison was certainly ruthless enough to deceive his own son if it served his ultimate ends.

Deceit or truth?  Steven could never tell.  Ever.

"Father, if this is what you believe, how do you explain your reaction this morning?"

William swirled the tea gently, releasing a curving column of steam.  "You said it yourself, Steven.  Temper. Pride.  That sad moment when you give voice to old hurts instead of present logic.  Perhaps I wanted to judge if you were really serious.  The moment you walked out the door, I knew."

"How could you look at Jim and doubt?"

"It's a hard thing to be challenged by your sons, even when they are correct.  No, Steven, I will not choose filth like Ventriss or Plummer over my own sons. I will not destroy my House and my inheritance in the service of an institution in need of reform." William set his cup gently on the table, a gesture Steven recognized from being a silent witness at many negotiations.  "I have acted on your grand bargain, Steven.  House Ventriss is broken.  The Council of Lords has frozen all assets and given Norman, Bradley, and Alicia, if she is ever found, over to Provincial Law and Justice.  House Plummer is all but broken, reorganized under a new heir who has consented to supervision.  As for James' - demands - Lord Harcourt has already made the appropriate concessions to the Governor, at my behest.  The disciplinary actions will be announced through his office tomorrow morning."

"You broke House Ventirss?" Kimiko said. She looked at Steven, shocked. "I didn't know.  I only heard about the Plummer Investiture.  I assumed it was Gerald."

William's eyes were cold.  "This is a revolution, Steven, and not for the timid. That's what you and James were asking of me.  To overthrow an order I've pledged my life to.  I reacted badly, and then I had to face the truth.  If actions count for anything, I believe I have proved myself."

Steven nodded slowly.

"I repeat, my sons are more precious to me than the rot that has invaded some of the Houses.  New Houses may ascend while others fall."  He looked sharply at Kimiko.  "I say within the confines of this room that the governance of the Houses will be overhauled to deal with the corruption. Plummer may not be the last House to be broken.  I need you, Steven, for the work that still remains."

"And if I say yes, what about Jim? Will you accept his Guide, as he requests?  Help us care for and protect Blair Sandburg's mother?  Will you bring Jim back to the position he deserves by right?"

"I am committed to bringing a new day to the Aristocratic Houses and the Province.  Can you say the same for yourself, and the woman who wishes to share your life?"

Steven was silent, considering the carefully phrased statement, the slight shift of focus that did not directly answer his question about his elder brother and his chosen guide.

Kimiko took his hand.  "Steven is my chosen, and I am not afraid."

William studied her, then poured the last of the tea into his cup.  "Ah, young Kimiko, you should be."

&&&&&

Jim left the details of organizing the medical team with McCarthy and Lake.  This was not the outcome they were all hoping for, but he had no means to alter the medical realities. Best to concentrate on what he could actually accomplish.  His appeal to Steven was answered immediately, setting the resources of the House Ellison medical team at his disposal.  No one challenged him about possible breach of security.

That done, Jim turned all his attention to the case, adding his own expertise to Simon's frantic plans.  If Naomi Sandburg's sacrifice was to mean anything, they would need to use every precious moment wisely and well.  Deathbed testimony carried great weight in Provincial Law and Justice proceedings, but their questions would need to be precise and focused. The woman's fragile condition guaranteed that time would run out before their questions did.

And then there was Blair.  His Guide.

Jim repeatedly interrupted his intense wrangling with Simon over strategy to hover outside the medical suite.  Actually trying to use his rebellious senses was harder than devising an interrogation strategy for a dying woman.  Jim felt clumsy and inadequate, but persisted. Something was wrong beyond Sandburg's obvious grief.  Was it fatigue, emotional and physical?  Jim could listen intently to each breath, each heartbeat, smell the tears and the stale odor of sweat. Jim's tangled feeling about his own mother, painful and long avoided, threatened to choke him. All he could come away with was a vague perception that something was very wrong.

The House Ellison specialists arrived within moments of each other, causing another flurry of anxiety about security and secrecy. Jim agreed with Simon in every respect, offered his apologies, and made it clear it would happen again. The possibility of moving to another location was considered and rejected.  Naomi Sandburg was far too fragile. 

The meeting of the Medics was not the harmonious meeting of academic minds.  Jim sized up the mutual distrust between the medical groups and met it head on. "They're in charge," he said, pointing to the personnel attached to Provincial Security. "That said, House Ellison gets full access, and they are my designees.  I get information the instant it's available.  If there's a disagreement on the best approach, Blair Sandburg is the final and only decision maker.  If I find out information is being concealed, and you're not all getting along like happy children, I'll call House Privilege, toss the lot of you and start over again."

Senior Medic McCarthy launched into the expected protest - the procedures were delicate, professional judgement imperative, interference with appropriate chain of command and so on, all of which Jim summarily dismissed.  Underneath it all, officers of Security Services put the case first.  Jim would have normally agreed if not for a sense of loyalty to the man who had braved weapons fire on the Plummer estate to save him, a total stranger.  "Naomi Sandburg is not a tool of the Province, or of our mutual Service," Jim said flatly, with an edge of menace.  "Her son chooses. If anyone interferes, remember I was trained as first heir.  Don't test me on this."

McCarthy made an aborted appeal to Banks. If Jim's superior had any reservations, it didn't show.  "S.S.I. Ellison is well within his rights.  I suggest you honor his stipulations."

"I will note the conditions in my report," McCarthy said, the underlying threat unmistakable.

"You do that," Jim said, folding his arms with barely concealed animosity.  "When I watched the current Lord Ellison in action, I always considered the exertion of House Privilege under Justice good theater.  Sometimes, Senior Medic, it's smarter to lose gracefully."

McCarthy scowled.  "You've made your point, S.S.I. Ellison. I suggest Blair Sandburg be removed until his mother is conscious.  The resuscitation procedures are inherently disturbing to watch."

Jim nodded.  On his way to the treatment suite, he was waylaid by the senior Ellison medical specialist.  "James Ellison, we are unsure of the proper address, but our team is honored to serve. Congratulations on your return to the House."

Jim restrained the impulse to roll his eyes. Besides, despite Steven's harried reassurances, his return to House was questionable and not something he wished to explore.  "James Ellison will suffice for now.  I gather you had something else you wished to discuss, Medic -."

"House Medical Specialist Hernandez." The man lowered his voice, his information obviously private.  "House Ellison technical specialists are assisting in the Justice probe of House Plummer and House Ventriss files."  Jim nodded.  Steven's help had come with some strings attached.  "I have been entrusted with medical information from the House Ventriss secret archives concerning Naomi Sandburg.  To be frank, your father would prefer it not come to light.  I will share said information if it becomes necessary."

Jim could imagine the topics House Ellison was willing to conceal from Law and Justice.  "Understood.  Do I need to be briefed?"

"About Mistress Naomi?  Not at this time.  The information about her son, that you may wish to see."  After a slight pause, Hernandez added, "The information was not annotated to an official archive.  I will summarize for you at the earliest opportunity."

Earliest but not immediate.  Jim understood the parsing of the official language. The information, whatever it was, required no immediate action.  "Agreed, and Hernandez, make is sooner rather than later.  Please excuse me."

Jim slipped alone into the darkened medical suite, coming to stand behind his guide.  "Sandburg?  Chief, the medical team says you need to leave now."

Blair didn't look up from his mother's face. He held one of her hands, carefully tracing a path around the knuckles.  "You'll never have a chance to know her.  She could charm almost anyone, you know.  She could be flighty and unconventional, but under it all she was so strong, so wise."

Jim went down on one knee beside his distraught guide. "I called Steven. He says my father is there, with him. It's not important right now, but he's sent his own personal physicians to consult with the medical team. I've made it clear that you make all the final decisions for your mother.  I - we - won't allow her to suffer needlessly."

"Good."  Blair stood up and walked out of the room, leaning against Jim for support. Again, Jim had the odd feeling of heat, of some indefinable wrongness.

The medical teams filed in.  Jim heard the outer doors seal with an imperceptible hiss. Damn senses.  No one else could hear all this crap.  Blair mumbled something about going to make tea. Daryl rose unbidden and followed him into the food prep area.

"What was all that about?" Simon asked.

Jim wasn't about to discuss Hernandez' confidential revelations with his superior without having a look first.  At a minimum, Steven had risked a lot, and deserved some cover. "Typical House nonsense. 'What shall I call you' crap. It will wait."

"You up to working on the interrogation strategy again?" Banks asked, although Jim gathered he didn't completely buy the cursory explanation.

"Sure.  Captain, I get the feeling there's something wrong with Sandburg."

Banks looked disgusted.  "Well, of course.  We've dragged the man through all kinds of deprivation and adversity, and now we tell him his mother's dying.  What did you expect?"

"Expect?  Simon this whole sentinel thing is one ugly surprise after another. My point is that I trust my instincts, even if I really don't understand all this Guide - Sentinel interaction stuff. Didn't Sentinel Captain Chambers say something about medical examinations?"

"I think so.  It was in the report.  I don't think he meant dragging someone in after hours.  Besides, if we drag any more people into this safe house we may as well send out welcome invitations to individuals we'd rather not meet."

"You're right, but I don't care. Get a guide specialist in here. Wrecking someone's evening isn't the end of the world."

A resounding crash from the food prep area, followed by Daryl's audible curse, sent them both running.  Daryl, Blair, the remains of a pottery mug, and scalding tea were together in a muddled lump.  Daryl was kneeling beside Sandburg, holding onto the man as if he were about to fly apart. Blair's breathing was ragged and raspy, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

"I don't know what happened.  One second we were talking, the next he was down." He shifted away from the worst of the spilled tea.  "Damn. This stuff burns. Should I get a medic?" Daryl asked.

"We have a whole herd of them here," Simon said. "How many do we need?"

Jim was on his knees as well, ignoring the flare of pain from the hot liquid.  He took most of Blair's weight from Daryl.  "I think we need a guide specialist.   Daryl, use the secure channel.  Tell them it's an emergency and to get a move on."  Daryl clambered to his feet and scampered off. Jim shifted Blair so he was sitting upright, braced against his own chest.  Again, that odd feeling of heat.  "Tell me what's wrong, Chief," he whispered.  "I don't know what to do."

There was no response.  "Captain, go beat on the medical suite and get Hernandez out here.  He might know something."

"How the hell would he - Ellison!"

Jim knew that tone.  "Don't ask me right now, Captain.  Just get him.  You can yell about the niceties later."

Daryl came backed and placed the back of his hand across Blair's forehead.  "He feels hot. Is he hot, Jim? Can you tell?"

Simon left, grumbling all the way. Jim could hear the banging and his booming voice demanding attention,  and tuned it out.

Daryl heard the main com unit sound, and hustled away to deal with it.  When he came flying back, he skidding on his knees in a move only a young man attempted. "On their way. I think Sentinel Captain Chambers is, too, whether you want him or not."

"Great.  More chaos," Jim snarled, his frustration veering off toward panic.

"Hey, don't blame me.  Sandburg is on some kind of alert status." Daryl touched his fingertips to Blair's forehead.  He stared at Jim, his unspoken question obvious. 

"I know.  He feels like a furnace to me," Jim said.  "Help me pull some of these layers off." Together they managed to peel away a sweater and a long sleeved tunic, leaving a light pullover close to the skin. Blair shifted restlessly, but never responded to their pleas for information.

"Jim, this may sound crazy, but is this a fever? Isn't that what it used to be called?

Jim's heart sank.

He was an idiot.  So that was it, that nagging sense of wrongness.  Offworld, in some forsaken spot Jim could barely remember, one of his team had fallen ill, taken down by some exotic virus. After the development of oral body temp reducers, fevers were rare, unheard of really, and the unit medic had no appropriate training.  He didn't recognize the problem for what it was.  It took a good twelve hours to recognize the problem, and by then it had been too late.  With the BTR's not working, the team had watched helplessly while Trooper Revon's life was burned away in convulsions, chills, sweats, and hallucinations.

"Damn.  It could be."  Jim tried to think. Sandburg would have gotten BTR's with the standard medical treatment.  This had been going on all day, he was sure.  He had a vague memory of the unit medic ranting after the Trooper had died, about what he should have done, if he'd only known.  Daryl, get some damp towels.  Cold.  Ice if we have it."  Daryl rummaged around the food prep area.  "And get that flyer docked, double time!" Jim shouted at the young man's retreating back.

The incoming flyer was closer than they thought. The Guide Specialist descended about the same time Jim and Daryl had managed to awkwardly pack Blair's wrists in ice and wrap the arrangement awkwardly with shredded drying sheets. Daryl quickly moved out of the way, but Jim stayed put, unwilling to release Blair to anyone else.

Other than overt injuries, Jim's medical checks were usually brief, followed by, "You're in excellent condition. See you in a year. By the ancestors, was he ever going to look at a medic again without them shaking their head? Guide Specialist Kate Snow didn't bother with introductions other than her uniform identity cypher, and didn't look up from the scans once they were running.  "According to the records, his stress readings were high earlier in the day.  He's practically off the scale now.  What have you been doing to him, running races?"

"No," Jim said, offended.   "It's been a bad day. Emotional.  Actually, it's been a bad week."

Specialist Snow obviously wasn't one for the gentle approach, at least with onlookers.  "You Security guys are all alike.  Oblivious until someone drops.  You've got a lot to learn about being a paired sentinel, buddy.  The guide always tends to minimize in deference to the sentinel. Didn't you pay attention in training?"

Training. Another subject Jim wasn't eager to discuss, but had the grace to look guilty.  "We're new to this.  I'm a bit light on the training."

"Light, as in zero?"

"Pretty much."

Snow swore in a language Jim didn't recognize, but then some things got communicated around the verbiage.  "How long were you two separated?"

"Three, four hours.  He was resting when I got back.  Like I said, it was a really bad day.  His mother is dying.  He was alone with her for a couple of hours."

"Great.  Well no wonder.  I didn't read all his records, but he had a difficult severance from his first sentinel, didn't he?"

"I don't know much.  He was denied treatment," Jim said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

Snow kept at the monitor.  "The first severance predisposes the second. Separation today just wasn't optimal for either one of you.  Any other stressors?"

"He's part of the Ventriss torture case."

Specialist Snow suffered no fools. "And that's what you call a bad day?  What else Sentinel? And quit pussy footing around."

Jim fought down a wave a panic.  This couldn't be happening.  "His breathing seemed labored.  I was going to ask about it.  We were doing the evidence debrief and then the medical team came. Like I said, he went to sit with his mother.  I know he got upset, and -"

Snow look all but shouted, 'You Idiot!', but she didn't say it.  "Do we know anything about prior lung issues?  He got standard BTR's so there's something else going on here."

"He drowned."

They all looked up in surprise.  The speaker was Hernandez, accompanied by Simon. "With your permission, James Ellison?"

Specialist Snow registered the formal address. For that matter, so did Captain Banks. Well fine, let her know how truly screwed up this situation was.  Jim nodded, giving his permission to the House Ellison medic.

"His first sentinel, Lady Alicia Ventriss Bannister, drowned him."

"Drowned - as in dead?" Snow stammered, not making any attempt to disguise her horror.  "A sentinel did that to a paired Guide?"

"Obviously an act which irretrievably broke any semblance of pairing," Hernandez said.  "I don't have many details, but the medical records clearly stated that Blair Sandburg was clinically dead.  After he was resuscitated, there was a complication, perhaps more accurately, a series of them.  Delays in treatment, and that was just the beginning.  There was reference to infection, but no diagnostic tests were run. He was extremely ill and languished with fever for months."

"What?  Months? What kind of a medic doesn't even run a pathogen test?" Snow practically shouted.  "Any medical personnel should have been up on charges."

Hernandez held up a hand.  "A matter which I cannot discuss.  Do you need additional diagnostic equipment, Guide Specialist Snow?"

"I'll take whatever you've got." Snow hastily reset the monitor. "Maybe it's a pathogen," she muttered.  "Lungs - water - could be viral.  Fungal?" She looked directly at Hernandez, then at Jim.  "How likely is it that he could have contracted an infection and gone without any follow-up treatment?  For what, years?

Jim could only nod.  This horror had no end.

"Well, that gives me a place to start." Snow was already digging for more equipment.  Hernandez made arrangements with his team and excused himself.  Jim hoped things with Naomi were going better than with her son. He left a hand on Blair's forehead, feeling the heat, the pulse of blood beneath his fingers.

"Can you help him?"  Jim could barely hear his own voice.  Hearing again, and no guide to help.  Damn senses.

"I'm not losing a Guide on my watch. Get that tunic off of him." Snow snapped a medication band around Blair's wrist with calm efficiency.  "I'm going to start treatment with broad-spectrum agents first and identify later."

&&&&&

"Lord Ellison, shall I take you back to the estate?"

William eased into the seat webbing opposite his personal flyer pilot.  "No, Samad, at least one more stop."

"Lord Ellison, begging your pardon, it's obviously been a full day.  Can your errand possibly wait until tomorrow?"

"Thank you for your concern, but no. You know the North Bunker?"

"Of course, Lord Ellison.  Do you wish your approach to go unnoticed?"

"Very much so.  Notify Captain Costello and his team to expect us."

"Very good, Lord Ellison."

As the flyer lifted, William spread his hands on the armrests, consciously directing muscle and tendon to relax. He could trust his personal pilot, Kazim Samad, with the details of the flight.  The young man had recently taken over from his father, was superbly trained and infinitely discreet.  It was all a matter of prioritizing.  He didn't have the stamina of a young man anymore.  He needed to gather his reserves for this last task, which meant letting Samad do his job.  Then he could return to the estate, eat and collapse into bed. 

He could bring the body to rest, but couldn't stop the mind from working.  So many interesting possibilities.  Twenty, even ten years ago, he would have worked through the night at a time like this, researching, planning, moving personnel and material for the next thrust. So far, his moves after his son's visit had been successful.  Those decisions were based on instinct rather than careful research and planning. He'd been lucky so far.

How fortunate that Kimiko Akiyama had been present. The young woman in person exceeded the reports he'd been given.  Kimiko and his son together would be formidable.  William sensed that if Kimiko was in agreement, Steven would be more amenable to suggestion.  Not that the young woman would be easy to manipulate.

One strategy was to throw his support behind the match, suggest a formal meeting of negotiation with her father.  House Akiyama was one of the last elevated, the grandfather the first Lord Akiyama, if memory served.  The current Lord Akiyama, Kaoro, had a reputation of excellence, efficiency and personal honor.  William had long believed that the child was the best measure of the parent. In that case, Kaoro as a potential ally was quite attractive.  In certain situations, strength was important.  Idiots like Harcourt were a weak reed in troubled times.

The flyer began to spiral down.  There was no landing dock at the Bunker, but the approach was shielded.  A lone figure stood, wrapped against the cold, just outside the entrance.  William was out the door before the flyer came to full rest.

"And a good evening to you, Lord Philip Plummer."

"My regards, Lord William."

"You were able to slip away, I see. A shame to leave your own Investiture, but necessary."

"As you requested."  Philip glanced toward the underground structure. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out this meeting will never be acknowledged."

"Very astute of you, Lord Philip. You spoke with your brother?"

Philip's expression was pained.  "Briefly.  Gerald is…hurt. I'll treat him fairly. I think he will come to accept his new situation."

"I doubt this encounter will go so well," William said darkly.

"Nothing with Carolyn ever does."

"Your father was a foolish man. Carolyn was allowed a free hand, which she exploited fully.  You need the assets of your House.  Carolyn has apparently hidden them well.  Tonight you and I will begin the hard task of clawing them back into your control."

"Carolyn will not be cowed by a windowless cell. I'm afraid we're both wasting our time, Lord William."

"We will be relying upon methods a bit more direct."  Philip's eyes widened, finally realizing the implications.  "The methods of leadership sometimes require us to compromise on certain principles. I will not do the dirty work for you, Lord Philip. Consider this your first test of leadership.  Let us go - speak - with your sister.

"There is no alternative?" Philip asked in a hushed voice.

William sympathized.  These turning points stayed with you for the remainder of your life, haunting your conscience and your dreams.  Grace still stalked him on sleepless nights, in the finery that was due Lady Ellison, rebellion on her face and anguish in his heart.  The situation with his chosen had been different, but no less dire than that faced by young Philip.  "We can leave.  You can lead a crippled House, forever worried about when your sister will marshal her hidden resources and move against you.  Consider carefully.  What is your decision?"

Philip's handsome face hardened.  "House Plummer will be whole, and I will lead it. Let's begin, and do what must be done."

Without another word, he started down the passageway. William allowed himself a tired smile. He had chosen well.

&&&&&

"You were military?" Jim asked, watching the guide specialist as she worked. 

"Does it show?" Specialist Snow grinned, although her hands continued their restless motion.

They had moved Blair to his own suite to continue treating him.  Sentinel Captain Chambers had in fact arrived looking more like a thunder cloud than the concerned superior he'd been a few hours before.  Definitely an equal opportunity guy when it came to chewing out any idiots still putting sentinel and guide under stress.  Banks and Specialist Snow caught the brunt of his ire. Jim opted to keep his head down and concentrate on relocating his Guide to his own suite.

Blair had protested, flailing ineffectively when Jim and Daryl finally stripped off the last layers.  Jim had never seen the man without layers of clothing. He looked painfully thin, lying there bare-chested, breathing heavily and irregularly. Jim fought down a new wave of panic and kept talking to Snow.  "I had medic training in the military."

 "Ah," she said.  "So you'd recognize the style."

"Takes one to know one.  Where did you serve?"

"In system, mostly.  Keep his arm still.  That scan needs to finish.  You?"

"Offworld, out of system.  Almost all of it's still classified," Jim said. He habitually avoided any discussion of his military service other than the fact that it existed. Too many demons. "How did you become a Guide Specialist?"

"My sister is - was - a Guide. We were in the same unit. Our talents ran in different directions."  There was a slight hitch in Snow's voice.  "She and her Sentinel were killed during our last tour."

"I'm sorry," Jim said. 

"Well, I haven't lost a guide since. I don't intend to start now." She checked the wrist scan. The House Ellison mobile diagnostics were humming in the background, processing the various samples they'd taken. "You have no clue what's happening, do you?"

"Not really," Jim admitted.

"As a sentinel, your body interacts with your senses. Too much stress, or some form of sensory overload, even prolonged fatigue, things start to go wrong, get harder. Your senses start to overreact. That's why they track your stress hormones so closely.  It's not so different for a guide, but their responses are more emotional than sensory. Basically the same results. As a pair, a true, supportive Guide-Sentinel pair, and you're both stronger, more stable.  What do you know about your guide - before?"

Jim looked back towards the bed.  How do you summarize years of unimaginable misfortune. Daryl had to answer for him. "He's had a really hard time. He was essentially banished inside Cascade Province.  His place wasn't even on the grid.  A Level Four ration card would have been a luxury."

Snow grimaced, catching what Daryl implied but didn't list. "No medical care for starters, crappy nutrition.  How long?"

"Years," Jim said, facing the cruel reality himself.  "Alone, isolated, cold, hungry.  Barely surviving, cobbling work together, fighting to keep his mother alive.  Do you think - was he already sick?"

"Yes, I think so."  Snow ignored him for a few moments, concentrating in the diagnostics.  "With inadequate initial treatment, this infection has been building slowly, waiting for the opportunity to reproduce and break out.  He's probably suffered off and on from respiratory infections and just waited them out."

"The fever," Jim said.  "All day, I kept getting this sensation of heat, and his breathing seemed off."

"The lungs were the site of initial infection. Your senses were picking up things the medical sensors were missing, even though you couldn't put a name to it."  She smiled gently at him. "Don't take it so hard. The fact that you could even sense a difference says you've got real potential with some training."

"Can you treat him?" Jim asked. "Offworld, I saw a man die from fever.  The BTR's wouldn't work. It was awful."

"This isn't some weird offworld microbe." She consulted the diagnostics again. "Your House analyzer chewed this one right up.  I have the whole genetic sequence, along with the chemical composition of the endospore wall.   This is a known mutant, fungal in origin with a little viral genetic material hybridized in. Started out in the tropics and transported itself into the Northwest a couple centuries ago." She shook her head and then explained.   "Someone should have smacked our ancestors when they started playing around with influenza mutations. They created monsters." She adjusted the equipment again. "Catch this one early, it's not so bad.  With the treatment delays, or lack thereof, his immune system got him out of the acute phase, but the organism went dormant.  When it breaks out of the spore stage, it's quite aggressive, like old fashioned influenza."

"Influenza.  Weren't there influenza epidemics?  What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means that it's a variant, but probably one we can manage.  I'll flood him with antifungals, which I'll custom design along with the accompanying antivirals for this particular nasty.  Those will kill the active forms, which are the ones interfering with breathing and causing the fever.  The spores will take longer." Snow looked up at Jim's anxious face.  "Don't look so panicked. Once he's out of the acute phase, life will be pretty normal."

"Right now, normal seems like a real distant memory."

"I mean normal in reducing stress on his body. You're going to have to watch him, make sure he gets rest and good nutrition, regular medical checks. Don't kid yourself, it won't be easy. Most guides are notorious for putting themselves last when it comes to their sentinels. Is he going back to this off-the-grid home base?

Jim looked at Daryl, who emphatically shook his head. "I think we can consider that a 'no', so I guess he'll stay with me.  For a while, he'll be here."

"Well, you can certainly feed him better than Level Four.  Make sure he rests and takes medication so we can beat the active and dormant forms. Spend time together, whenever possible. It will be good for both of you, but being a guide who's already gone through severance, it will help him more. He can work, within reason, but keep his work day short.  Some general immuno-enhancers would be ideal."

"How long before he's out of danger?" Jim placed his palm flat on Sandburg's chest.  He could feel each shaky wheeze, each uneven heartbeat. 

"Depends on this variant.  You do your job as a sentinel, he'll be fine." Snow was pulling off the different monitors, but left a medication cuff on each wrist.  "I've set the custom antifungal on slow drip for him. Leave them on until morning. When he wakes up, probably in a couple of hours, keep him awake long enough to rehydrate.  See if he'll eat something."  She checked the med cuffs again.  "Flow's good.  I'll leave my report with Captain Banks.  I'll probably stick around in case you need me."

She left, and Jim was happy to leave dealing with the brass to her.  No point in giving Sentinel Captain Chambers another chance at a potential target.  Daryl, who was still pacing in the background trying to be helpful, dimmed the lights.  "He looks better, even now.  He'll beat it, Jim.  He's stronger than he looks."

Jim nodded, finally alone with his guide. He pulled a thermal sheet over the still form.  Jim knew better than most that even the strong have limits.

&&&&&

"Prosecutor Sanchez, you have the medical summaries. Look at the realities. If you persist with this line of questioning, we'll never get the essential testimony we need."

Beverly Sanchez' scowl deepened and seemed to fill with com screen.  "Captain Banks, executing the detention orders is your business.  Building the Provincial Justice case is mine."

"Prosecutor, we need to concentrate on the information that can only be provided by Naomi Sandburg.  If that means starting in the middle to save time, so be it. Look at our recommendations again. You'll see that's what we were concentrating on."

"We need a logical progression for the Judicial Panel -"

"All the logical progression in the Province won't help if we can't get to the essential questions.  Her direct testimony about her treatment by Ventriss, Blair Sandburg's involvement, and Lady Elizabeth's demise can only come from her. You've seen the record vids. Her verbal description with the vid would be insurmountable, even for an aristocrat like Ventriss."

"We can keep her alive.  I  can issue a Extension of Life through Provincial Justice, and do it right."

"Prosecutor, who do you think will call House Privilege first? Steven Ellison or James Ellison? And where will we be if Steven Ellison or House Ellison withdraws support?"

Beverly Sanchez pushed an errant lock of hair off her forehead.  "There is a benefit to the Aristocratic Houses in distancing themselves from Ventriss. You may be unaware, Captain, the House Ventriss - "

"House Ventriss has been broken, and House Plummer reorganized under a new heir.  You'll find my sources within those sectors are exceptional, Prosecutor." Banks inwardly whispered a 'thank you" to Jim and his brother for sharing the most current news. "Steven Ellison is highly committed to his brother and Blair Sandburg.  Don't imagine that we can throw our weight around on this one. We'll lose, and a difficult case will become impossible."  Banks waited, knowing it would take some time for Beverly Sanchez to withdraw from her position. It came with the territory. You didn't become a Provincial Justice official at her relatively young age without a headstrong mindset to go with the talent.  "Review our recommendations, Prosecutor.  Shall we revisit our positions tomorrow morning?  The medical personnel assure me that Naomi Sandburg will not be available before early afternoon."

"Agreed, Captain.  Keep them safe, whatever you do."

The com screen faded to black.  Despite his fatigue and his growing list of difficulties, Banks noted her final comment.  There had been an inordinate amount of traffic in and out of the safe house. Every contact was a potential breach of security.  Ventriss might be hiding out and not a concern, but he was starting to worry more about Connal Plummer or Garrett Kincaid.  Kincaid definitely had the ability to organize a preemptive strike, and it was a foregone conclusion that he had paid enablers inside Provincial Detention. Considering the pair of them had been able to get their hands on a sonic cannon, who knew what other remote access weapons they or their minions had at their disposal?

Better safe than sorry.  Banks was a fervent believer in a defensible perimeter and advance intelligence.  With a touch he brought up a holo of the safe house and the surrounding area. His dark eyes flickered, considering what other units could be brought to bear.

&&&&&

Philip had removed his outer regalia. His skin was pale against the deep Plummer blue of his undertunic.  "Carolyn, you must realize your situation.  I'm going to get those House assets one way or another. Don't force my hand."

"Never!  I'll never help you take the office that should have been mine."

Philip shook his head.  He'd always accepted the fact that Gerald wasn't the brightest of the siblings, but he'd accepted the reality of succession. Gerald's shortcomings in no way entitled Carolyn for ultimate leadership.  Her temporary control of the House was the result of opportunism, not right. "Carolyn, I didn't ask to be thrust ahead of Gerald, but it was me or the House was going to be broken.   You were never going to be more than temporary Head of House.  Don't throw your life away on something that is never going to be. You can keep your personal property. I give you my word that you'll be treated with respect, as a daughter of the House, as long as you accept my authority."

Carolyn screamed in unbridled rage, thrashing against the restraints.  The depilation cream had already been applied.  Her appearance was already a shocking perversion of the assured, attractive sister he had always known.  Philip took several steps back. Cognitive Interrogation always left scars.  His sister would emerge from this process with some level of damage.  If only she would yield quickly, minimizing the consequences.

The documents designating her as an Enemy of House Plummer were waiting for his signature and seal, along with the orders authorizing the C.I. procedure.  Philip signed, as he had done to seal his elevation to Head of House.  "I'm sorry, Carolyn.  If only you'd see reason." 

"I'll have my revenge, Philip! This isn't over! It will never be over!"

Philip left, sealing the door on her rant. Lord William and Captain Costello waited in the reception area.  "Captain, do you have the asset list?"

"I do, Lord Plummer.  I have search teams posted at the Plummer estate and your sister's residence.  They will act upon any information we obtain."

"I want a full report, first thing in the morning," Philip said.  "Move swiftly, but direct the interrogation team to spare as much of her personality and intellect as possible."

Costello extended the usual courtesies. Philip realized he and Lord William were alone, the older man standing by the door waiting for him. "Philip, you have just taken the most difficult step towards becoming a true head of house. Regret that that action was necessary, but not that you took the action required of you."

"My own sister.  Does it ever get easier?" Philip asked in an anguished voice.

"No," Lord William said, his face in shadow, but his voice calm and firm.  "Seek wisdom and honor before all things, Philip, and be ruthless only when necessary. You'll find as long as you don't indulge arrogance, you'll be able to live with it."

Philip looked back toward the darkened structure, and hoped Lord William's words were true.

&&&&&

It was the small hours of the morning before Blair stirred. Jim moved silently from the chair where he'd kept watch.  "It's me. How do you feel?"

"I can't see," Blair said. "Jim?" He sounded frightened and confused.

"I'm here, and I can see fine for both of us." Jim placed two fingers along Blair's cheek.  Cool. Dry.  Better.  "You're doing fine, Chief."

Blair levered up on one elbow.  "Medication cuffs?  What happened?"

"You got sick.  You've probably been sick for a long time."  Jim eased an arm behind Blair's shoulders, dragging a bed support behind him.  "You had a fever."

"Fever?  People don't get fevers anymore."

"They do when they don't get treatment," Jim said, mildly amused that Blair had the energy to argue. "The infection's in your lungs, been there since -"  Jim paused. Sandburg didn't need to be grilled, but he had to know.  "By the ancestors, Sandburg, she drowned you.  Your paired Sentinel, even if she wasn't of your choosing.  Why didn't you tell me?"

Blair made a sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "My greatest failure. Your father was right. You can do better. You should be running into the night, looking for another guide.  Why are you still here?"

"No.  Never."  Jim laced his fingers around Blair's.  His guide didn't need to spend energy on this.  "Alicia was crazy, Chief.  Crazy.  Even as children, we knew it.  She was supposed to be kept away from others, and should never have had a guide.  Ventriss threw you together under duress, blackmailed you into cooperating and then kept you under a cloud.  You're a better man than I deserve.  None of it was your fault."

Blair's voice sounded tired and distant. "Seems like it."

"I'm going to get that bastard if it takes me a lifetime.  He's never going to touch you again."

"It was a long time ago, Jim. Why am I sick now?"

"I won't try to repeat the medi-speak.  The short version is after the drowning you never got treatment. The infection's been waiting all this time, lurking around, waiting to bite you in the ass."

"All this time, I just thought I just was prone to bronchitis.  My place doesn't have enviro systems."  Blair sagged. "I feel like shit."

"Yeah, I know," Jim said softly. "But we've got it on the run. You don't need to worry about the details."  Jim grabbed one of three plastotubes of juice.  "Here, they want you to drink.  No arguments."

Blair obediently took a long sip.  "Fruit?  I can't tell what kind."

"Doesn't matter.  Just drink it down."  Jim knew it was a blend chosen for nutrient value, but mentioning expensive luxury items like pomegranate and black cherry would only upset Sandburg more. As soon as the first one was empty, he unsealed another.  "The meds will be done by morning.  Could you eat?"

Blair yawned.  "Maybe.  No. Eating sounds like too much trouble."

"Then down another one of these," Jim said, offering plastotube number three.

Blair reached out into the dark, his aim a little off. Weird, these sentinel things. Jim easily placed the drink tube in the waiting palm.  It was plenty bright in the room for him.  "My mom?"  Blair asked between sips.

"Too soon, way too soon.  I get updates every few hours.  A House Ellison medic team is here, and they answer to me. No games.  I played the bastard heir-elect and read the fear of the ancestors into the lot of them."

Another giant yawn.  Jim realized Blair's body had relaxed, and slid one of the bed supports out, easing Blair flat.  "Go back to sleep, Chief.  I'll be here."

"You should sleep…"

"Yeah, I know.  I'll get right on that."  Jim waited as one slow breath followed another.  The heavy, rasping with each breath was gone.  Satisfied with the overall improvement, Jim drifted back to his original position of watchfulness.  He never even considered retiring to his own suite for real sleep.

The surrounding darkness matched his thoughts. Ventriss.  He should be concerned with the fulfillment of law, the pursuit of justice, but all he wanted was to throttle the life out of Norman Ventriss, just after he'd managed to inflict a fraction of the pain and humiliation visited on Blair Sandburg.

First, they needed to find Ventriss. Soon, before he managed to slip beyond their grasp.  Maybe Taggert was on the right track.  One way or the other, Jim Ellison vowed to be there when the net closed.

&&&&&

Daryl Banks padded silently across the dimmed room. He couldn't go back to sleep. In the last seventy-two hours, he'd had all his assumptions about life in Cascade shaken.  Now he realized he'd been taught to believe in the ideal, and he'd never really asked any deeper questions.  Now he realized that so much more was happening behind the façade.

How naïve he'd been, thinking that if you were Level Four you were lazy, not very bright, or both. That the University he'd studied at considered merit and only merit.  That the Founding Fifty were noble and dedicated to the betterment of the Province. 

His father understood.  They'd talked quietly for hours after Jim had retired with his guide and the safe house had gone silent.  Another revelation, that his father, though a loyal servant of the Province, silently railed against the injustice inherent in the Aristo-Citizen system of government.  He'd been so patient, explaining the complicated tangle of power politics that, as a young officer, he had yet to learn.

Restless and looking for a distraction, he activated the screen for the external sensors.  The sentry personnel were on the levels above and below, but the protection level was still equipped with visual screens.  Someone else had this detail, but there was no harm in a little idle looking.

On the third viewer angle, the hair on his neck raised. He tightened the isolation focus, then accessed the body and facial recognition.  In rapid succession, a series of images appeared, each with its time cypher.

They were being watched.

&&&&&

Taggert waited patiently while his two young officers experimented with the personal hover gear.  Taggert had trained with the device, but Brown and Rafe had not. Although Taggert was past the age when doing aerial double loops with nothing besides a palm-sized hover generator strapped to the waist was irresistible, but he appreciated the desire to test the limits. It was easy to see why the military services kept this stuff under wraps.  Silent, fast, maneuverable, and definitely not the kind of equipment you wanted in criminal hands.

A soft, gray fog hovered just above Big Creek as it snaked across the volcanic plateau.  Peaks of the Cascade Range formed jagged teeth off to the east, and the slopes were thick with fir.  They were using the relatively accessible plateau for a practice area before plunging through the swirling veil of mist and following the creek into its slot canyon.

The thundering of the water through the slot canyon could be heard for miles.  Even though Taggert had all the data memorized, the thought of searching the watercourse was still daunting.  In less than a quarter of a mile they would follow the water down a drop of five hundred feet through the ten foot slot.  Somewhere, out of sight of the plateau and the lower section of Big Creek, was a cave, a grotto undercut beneath a forty foot cataract and ,hopefully, a Ventriss transport.

The distinctive hum of a hover generator grew louder. Brown circled neatly and came to a stop, Rafe right behind him.  "Think we've got the hang of it, Captain."

"I hope so.  This isn't the kind of spot where we want to make a mistake. Let's  get our equipment and give it a shot."

They'd assigned the scanning devices according to expertise, and each of them had personal illumination.  According to the reports, the slot canyon got virtually no light even at the height of day.  Rafe, who had the fewest technical skills, had volunteered to take the point. After a final check-in, they moved over the last approach single file, and regrouped where the water plunged into the subterranean slot.

The pounding of the water generated shock waves. Dangling a feet in the wrong place and it would pull the careless soul under.

"Still game?"  Taggert asked.  "No shame if you'd rather not."

Rafe shook his head.  Brown just shrugged.  "Lead the way, Rafe. Slow and easy."

Taggert watched them drop into the mist. The sun was just slanting over the peaks when he followed them into the black, churning abyss.

&&&&&

Keeping Specialist Snow's assurances of normalcy in mind, Jim approached the day with forced optimism.  He got an improved but still shaky Sandburg up, evaluated his bedraggled person and hustled him into the grooming chamber. From the looks of it, Sandburg wasn't a morning person by nature, nor was he willing to accept Jim's hovering willingly. Jim counted that as a good sign, left the man to his own devices, and took the opportunity to duck into the shower in his own, previously unused, suite. 

A wash and clean clothing were both long overdue. While warm water pulsed over his skin, Jim divided his time between listening for Sandburg and engaging in a personal litany, concentrating on "normal" and "better than yesterday".  Sentinel services had supplied street clothes along with uniforms, all in sentinel-friendly and who knew what else.  So much for normality.  He bypassed the uniform tunics available and opted for comfort, selecting a gray sweater that looked promising and something that vaguely looked like his own favorite pants. He could always change into professional attire when the questioning of Naomi Sandburg eventually began.

Then the day went to shit.  "Normal" had lasted all of about twenty five minutes.

When Jim emerged, Guide Sonya Kim was in the main sitting area, looking on while Specialist Snow examined Sandburg. Blair didn't look too happy, but one look from Sonya Kim and Jim respectfully kept his distance.

 "His readings are very favorable, Guide Kim." Snow's tone was deferential. Jim wondered again just how much of a force Sonya Kim actually was.  So much for the accepted assumption that guides played second fiddle to their sentinels.

"That is encouraging, Specialist," Kim said. Jim noted that the clear, soft voice was still in use, but every line of her posture screamed her displeasure. "Please describe your expected treatment protocol."

"Of course, Guide Kim."  Snow proceeded to rattle off a medically dense procedure schedule, apparently covering the next few days.  Sandburg looked increasingly unhappy but said nothing. Jim had enough medic training to get the gist - periodic medication cuff treatment, scans every four hours. House Ellison was synthesizing and providing a genetically-specific antifungal to deal with any residual spores still lurking in Sandburg's body, which would be used as soon as it was available.

"Sentinel Ellison, Guide Sandburg and I will consult in private," Kim said briskly.  "If you will excuse us." 

An order, not a request.  "He hasn't eaten yet," Jim blurted out. Probably a mistake, but damn, wasn't everyone barking at him about watching out for his Guide?

"Noted.  I will see to it."  Kim took Blair by the elbow.  "Sentinel Ellison, please use the time to eat something yourself.  I will discuss the situation with you presently." A few moments of elegant movement, and she was gone, Blair's "save me" look notwithstanding.

"Snow, you ratted us out," Jim said, tuning on her as soon as the guides were out of the room.  "And here I thought you were on my side."

"I am on your side," Snow said calmly, packing up a few stray items of equipment.  "Here's the deal.  Remember the enviro vids we all see as kids?  Narwals? Tigers?"

Jim blinked twice.  Somewhere this conversation made a jump he hadn't followed. "What do extinct animals have to do with anything?"

"It's rude to answer a question with a question, even if you're an aristocrat.  Yes or no?"

"Yes, I remember the weird fish and the big cats," Jim answered, thoroughly irritated.  "So what?"

"Then you saw the grizzly bear? The mama and cub?"

"Well, yeah.  Everyone knows that one."  Personally, he'd always rooted for the crazed bear, chasing whatever away from her babies. It had always appealed to him. Actually, he used to scare Steven by sneaking into his room at night growling.

"Then you have the right frame of reference. Guide Sonya Kim is the big mama grizzly guide of Cascade, and ultimately every guide and sentinel answers to her.  If Guide Kim isn't happy, nobody's happy.  I'm way more afraid of her than all Provincial Security and the Houses combined.  She was the first com contact I made this morning."  She met Jim's gaze and added unapologetically, "Live with it."

Jim folded his arms across his chest. "Give me the short version, Snow."

"Medically, he's improved, so my fat is out of the fire."  She looked toward the closed door or Sandburg's suite.  "She's not convinced that you and Security Services have the sense to keep him from screwing himself up.   I have a feeling you're going to get a little advisory session."

"Great," Jim said sarcastically. "A few days ago, I did my job and that was that.  Now, everyone in Cascade has an opinion before I walk out the door."

"I'd sympathize, but I'm just really glad she's not mad at me right now."  Snow grinned. "Sonya Kim is way protective. That can be a good thing. When you need her, she can move mountains.  Protective isn't always bad."

Jim took a moment to consider that and decided to let it go. "Is Sandburg really better?"

Specialist Snow's face lost its teasing grin. "He could do a light duty day. I haven't been briefed, but Sonya Kim is worried about emotional duress.  I gather some of that is unavoidable."

"Probably," Jim said grimly. He cast a quick glance toward the medical suites.  "Make that certainly."

&&&&&

Seneschal Gresham Knowleton rubbed his bleary eyes and checked the screens again.  The moment he'd been dreading had finally arrived.  The question now was whether their presence would go undetected. No, that was wrong. Other, more potentially dangerous questions lurked just below the surface, involving betrayal and desertion. How much loyalty did he actually owe Norman Ventriss at this point?

Knowleton shoved those considerations to the background. He was a military man by nature, and there was a way to approach these situations.  Analyze the threat.  Generate alternatives.  Evaluate those alternatives and select the best course.  He focused on the monitors.  Not one, but two incursions. 

The first alert was distant, moving slowly, up the valley from the Boundary.  Wildlife typically followed the watercourses.  This alert was moving in more difficult going, under the trees and through the undergrowth.  His initial analysis as grazing animals was off.  A bit too purposeful for wildlife. 

He changed the scanner setting to bio mode and adjusted for the normal forest denizens.  The rainbow colored display quickly resolved into pale yellow shapes. With a trained eye, Knowleton scrutinized what he saw.  Large, quadruped, moving slowly.  He would dismiss them as elk, except for the blurs moving close to them, almost in lockstep. Possibly adults with young, but the profile just didn't look right.  He shifted the sensor array slightly, producing a different angle. No, not elk.  Pack animals with a load, being led by human hands.

To his knowledge, Lynch Gentry didn't have pack animals. Animals involved care and support that drained resources.  Gentry was a successful smuggler, but life in the Boundary didn't allow for luxuries like pets or service animals.  Still, he'd learned not to underestimate the Gentrys, Lynch in particular. Potentially, Gentry could be paid off, and the group was moving slowly.  He had time to think about that one.

The second incursion screamed Security Services. The heat signature, the movement pattern - who else could get their hands on personal hover equipment? This had all the earmarks of a deliberate search, which begged the question of betrayal.  The Ventriss association with smugglers was an open secret, but the details were not.  Who could have given them up, and set Security Services in the right direction?

These searchers were underground, but had to have come in from the top of the slot canyon rather than more direct routes. If they'd come in through Cave Falls, the dock sensors would have alerted him.  The logical conclusion was the searchers were following a suspicion, not a certainty. If they did nothing, went to total black, shut down all the electronics, even the sensors, maybe they would pass over them.

Knowleton checked the group moving up the valley. Their pace made them the less immediate threat.  They wouldn't make much progress while the sensors were down.  The timing might be tight, but there was a chance they could evade both groups.

Decision made, he powered down every element of the sensor array. One after another the panels faded to black.  That done, he checked the oxygen and temperature, calculated how long they could maintain full system shutdown, and set his own personal alarm.  Satisfied, he accessed the main grid controls and went to full shutdown.  The hum of the internal systems slowly faded and vanished.  He took one longing look at the side passage.  For one brief moment he imagined it, vanishing up and out, following the paths out of the landing bay, through the grotto and into the forest, leaving Ventriss to his undoubtedly deserved fate.

Not yet. He'd hold that possibility in reserve.

Trailing a hand along the passage wall, Knowleton moved down the main corridor of the transport to Lord Ventriss' suite. He would explain their situation, hopefully with a minimum of grousing from his employer.  The emergency lights recessed into the floor began to pulse. Two minutes and all would go to dark - silent, with no electronic signature.  Ventriss was asleep, sprawled across the reclined seat bay. His eyes flew open, instantly angry at Knowleton's unannounced intrusion.  Knowleton stilled the imminent tirade with a hand.

"We have an emergency, Lord Ventriss. Don't move.  Say nothing."

&&&&&

One morning, during his excessively talkative pre-teen years, Blair remembered his mother firmly stating, "Sweetie, silence speaks volumes.  Try some." Sonya Kim obviously subscribed to the same school of thought.  She waited pointedly while Blair forced down a breakfast that would have ordinarily set his mouth watering.  He was poised to break the silence when she resolutely handed him a bowl of cooked cereal grains and nodded for him to continue.

Finally, he could stand it no longer. "I would like to thank you, Guide Kim.  You were very understanding in your approach to Sentinel Ellison and his need for training. He finds his current condition…confusing."

"No thanks is needed, Guide Sandburg. Your sentinel, however, is not my primary focus this morning."

Blair sat very still, trying to keep a wave of panic under control.  Of course. This was it.  He should have expected it.  No one was going to trust a sentinel as valuable as James Ellison with a guide who was physically compromised and professionally incompetent. One half of his soul instantly summoned up every argument: he was good with Ellison, he had the academic training to work with a difficult sentinel in a challenging environment, even that they had mutually accepted each other in formal pledge. 

The other half stilled that impulse. What argument could he possibly make after collapsing last night?  Infection and fever, with no immediate cure.  He had no right to expect a placement with any sentinel on a permanent basis, much less this one.

"I understand," Blair said carefully, using every scrap of discipline he still had to keep his voice from breaking. "Do you have a replacement in mind?"

"A replacement?" Guide Kim asked. "As in a replacement Guide? Someone else for Sentinel Ellison?"

"Well, of course," Blair stammered. "Isn't that why you're here?"

To his shock, Sonya Kim's face spoke of compassion, not judgement.  "It has been some time, hasn't it, since you looked to Guide Services for any type of help, isn't it, Blair Sandburg?"

Any answer died in Blair's throat. Was he still asleep and hadn't noticed?

Sonya Kim extended her right hand, palm up. Automatically, Blair responded with the corresponding formal gesture, placing his right hand above hers. "Being Guide to the Sentinel Commandant of Cascade is a great honor.  It carries great authority as well, but like any guide, I can be distracted by the sentinel side of any issue we are addressing.  It took me several hours after our meeting yesterday to admit that we had been totally focused on Sentinel Ellison.  Such a grievous error, and I beg your pardon, Blair Sandburg.

Since his mouth hanging open was rather unattractive, Blair managed to stop gaping.  Anything else was beyond him.

"Most of your readily obtainable records in Guide Services have either been deleted or falsified.  Commandant Winter was able to arrange a session with the Security Investigator who has done most of the research on your case.   S.I. Connor sacrificed a great deal of sleep last night to reveal a more accurate picture." Sonya Kim shook her head sadly. "I believe you have not actually met Megan Connor, but she is quite a forceful advocate on your behalf. Blair Sandburg, I regret that I did not inquire more closely about your status.  Drowned by your sentinel?  It's unconscionable, and yet I can imagine why you told no one. I am not here to replace you. I am here to inform you that Commandant Winter is totally committed to your placement with James Ellison, and is working with his counterpart in Cascade to provide additional support."

"You're not going to - to take him away from me?"

"Not at all.  We are assembling a team -"

The suite door slid open with a rush, and Daryl Banks tumbled in, trying to extend courtesies and drag Sandburg out of his chair at the same time.  "Blair! Excuse me, Guide Kim. Taggert needs Jim right now, and he won't leave without his guide!"

&&&&&&&

"Lord William, your proposal is most interesting. I have much to consider."

_And you, Kaoro Akiyama, are a fine negotiator. As I expected, a worthy adversary._

William sipped his tea.  Although this meeting had been arranged in the waning hours of the previous evening, Kaoro Akiyama had acted with the decisiveness William admired in a Head of House.  Not only had he accepted this meeting, he had prepared admirably on very short notice. His negotiating ploys had been quite skillful.  William was grateful he had researched this contingency in secret when he'd first become aware of Steven's serious interest in the eldest daughter of House Akiyama. The preparation gave him some advantage in the present parlay, however slight.

By rank and position, William should have entertained Akiyama at the Ellison estate.  Requesting this discussion take place at the Akiyama estate suggested a meeting of equals, which was exactly the impression William desired to convey. Kimiko's prospective pairing with Steven was not a simple acquiescence to the declared affection of the young lovers. This was politics, the elevation and descent of Houses, for the current generation and those to follow. Any agreement they made here would send ripples through the entire Province of Cascade.

William understood the importance of patience. Press too hard, and Lord Kaoro would exercise his right to deliberate.  William wished to avoid delay at all costs.  He had many pawns in play, and surprise worked to his advantage. Whenever one House rose, there was inevitably a decline in the fortunes of others.  Alliances would shift.  The flurry over the elevation of Philip Plummer and the breaking of House Ventriss would camouflage the rise of House Akiyama while the aristocrat community was distracted.  Lord Kaoro would be nearly seated on the Council of Lords before any opposition could coalesce.

So William would drink tea, and wait, discreetly giving Lord Kaoro time to calculate the risks and rewards in his own dynastic scales. He allowed his eyes to roam around the room.  The chosen environment of a man often gave an insight into his character.  For example, Lord Harcourt, with his ridiculous greenhouses and birds, was a putterer in life as well as leadership. 

 Lord  Akiyama's private office indicated a far more decisive man, an man with depth and multiple layers.  His choices displayed an interesting blend of Asian and North American influences. William was no expert in areas of Asian art, but the artifacts lining the polished wooden shelves bespoke value as well as elegance and taste.  A beautifully carved Go board dominated one corner, a game obviously in progress. Green and pale white game stones gleamed under indirect light.  Jade, William guessed, and therefore nearly beyond price.  Even the tea cup he now held, thin to the point of translucence, was undoubtedly a treasure of the House.

"Change is upon us, Lord Kaoro. I wish my House to flourish into the next generation."

Akiyama nodded.  "Such is the responsibility of Katokusozoku, as my ancestors called it. When we left the homeland, we carried the concept with us.  Traditionally, I will chose my successor, as do you.  However, tradition only goes so far.  We no longer believe that this responsibility rests solely with the male line, or the eldest.  You must understand that Kimiko is a rare and talented jewel.  Had she shown the desire, she could have been Head of House. She will be as important to the next generation as either of my two sons."

"A remarkable young woman.  I assure you, she will be treated as such in House Ellison, a shared treasure,"  William answered.

"It is natural for a father to seek happiness for his daughter.  It is said that - how shall I put this - that recently the actual and prospective consorts of House Ellison have not found joy.  Is this not so, Lord William?"

William sipped his tea.  So now he knew where Kimiko inherited her boldness. Very few men on the continent or beyond had the courage to ask that question to his face.  "This is so, Lord Akiyama.  My choice of consort, the mother of my sons, did not remain in her role. It was a bitter cup for us both. As for Carolyn Plummer, I assume the responsibility.  There were warnings which I ignored, much to my regret.  As a point of honor, I would do everything in my power to assure Kimiko's happiness in this matter, now and in the future."

"House Akiyama takes this matter very seriously, Lord William."

A warning, skillfully given.  William nodded in acknowledgement.  "As does House Ellison."

"Perhaps it is best to allow time for both of us to consider the implications," Akiyama said carefully.  "The reaction of the other Houses.  Those of European descent, for example."

William recognized the tactful assertion for what it was. The Founding Fifty were not racially exclusive, but elements of prejudice still lurked beneath the surface. A more pervasive reality was that more recently raised Houses such as House Akiyama were subtly excluded from the inner circles of power by older, more established Houses. "I, too, understand the limits of tradition.  In the present climate, two of our oldest Houses have been shown to be fatally flawed. This will shake the ingrained expectations of the other Houses.  Now is the optimal time to increase the influence of Houses which have shown themselves most worthy."

"Possible.  Yet possibilities are not certainties, Lord William. Kimiko is a certainty. What you allude to is not."

And there it was, elegantly stated. Time to play the trump card.

William produced a formal scroll.  He continued to speak as Lord Kaoro unrolled the traditional document and weighted the corners.  "I had these prepared last night.  My seal is already in place.  This is my copy. The others are poised to be presented to the other members of the Council of Lords.  I assure you, my fellow council members will agree. In fact, you may consider our other agreements contingent upon their signatures."

Lord Kaoro carefully rerolled the scroll. When he handed the scroll to William, their eyes met.  The deal was struck.

"Perhaps we should discuss a date for the announcement, Lord William."

William nodded gravely, saving his victory smile for later - much later.  "I suspect our young ones will wish to avoid any unnecessary delay."

"Agreed, Lord William.  Soon, but without haste.  The ancestors considered spring and fall to be ideal seasons for the joining of two souls."

"An admirable custom, Lord Kaoro. The maple groves on the Ellison estate are quite remarkable in the autumn."

Kaoro nodded without commitment. "And Kimiko has always loved the season of cherry blossoms."

&&&&&

A comparative lifetime ago, Blair had considered Taggert's piloting a transport into the Plummer estate under fire to be the all-time worst flight on record.  His introduction to involvement with Major Incident personnel included concussion waves, a complete double roll and a near crash landing.  He'd been scared to death and had practically thrown up on Taggert's shoes before his stomach had rejoined the rest of his vital organs.

Blair owed Taggert an apology.  Jim Ellison in a hurry set a brand new standard for awful.

Like all citizens, Blair was familiar with the distinctive outlines of Security Services transports.  So much for the benefits of common knowledge. Their current transport was smaller and sleeker, apparently because Jim's pilot rating was unthinkably high. At least that was the only explanation Jim had finally volunteered - that and something about night flying in the military. 

As if that was any excuse. 

In Blair's exceedingly limited experience, a transport piloted by Jim Ellison had three speeds - fast, faster and totally out of control. Jim had left the safe house on a near vertical angle that sent Blair's head spinning, climbing through and above the aristocrat flyways into rarified air. They were streaking out of Cascade proper, beyond the sprawling estates of the Houses, heading into the undeveloped areas.  Unbroken tracts of maple, alder and conifer passed beneath them as they penetrated into the foothills of the Cascade Range.

Abruptly Jim dropped the flyer, skimming the tree tops. Occasionally, a wispy spire of a fir would snap against the viewing panels, shattering into a film of bark and needles.  To Blair they sounded like the projectile fire from the Plummer siege, but Jim seemed oblivious. Blair couldn't keep himself from ducking every damn time.

"Jim, can't we get away from these trees?" he pleaded.

"We're fine," Jim said, sheering off another fir. "They won't hurt the hull." He abruptly dropped them even lower to a stream bed, screaming along barely above the watercourse. Spray from the rapids coated the forward view screen almost immediately.

"Can you see, Jim?"

"Yeah," Jim said, swooping over a small waterfall in a move that left Blair's innards behind.  "These damn senses are good for something after all. Besides, the instruments are still functional.  We have ground clearance. Is it normal to have better reaction time as a sentinel?"

That comment shifted Blair's anxiety to a whole new level. Most late-onset sentinels had to relearn tasks involving depth perception all over again. Some never regained old skills after intensive training, and here Jim was using them to skim rocks at a hair's breadth.  

"Uh - most guides wouldn't recommend this, you know. Maybe we should, you know, slow down, or move up a little.  At least until we have a chance to practice."

Blair barely had the words out of his mouth when Jim swooped up and over another rise of jumbled boulders and spray that sent Blair's stomach into flip flops.  "Good thing you're not most guides," Jim said nonchalantly.  "I don't want to be seen, Sandburg.  Think about the Ventriss estate.  They had illegal gear all over the place. Any hideout they're using will have plenty of monitoring equipment, and I don't want to tip them off. Low and fast is our best chance."

"As opposed to arriving alive?" Blair said sarcastically. "Seriously, Jim, this is a really bad idea."

"Well, we're almost there."

"I still don't quite understand the urgency," Blair said, holding onto the seat restraints for dear life.

"Something about the character of the rock is screwing up the sensors, not to mention thousands of kilos of water. Taggert swears they had something and then it blipped out.  What if Ventriss really is there and that bastard is making a run for it?  That makes slow a bad idea, as far as I'm concerned."

"Jim, no one wants Ventriss locked up more than I do, but you're a new sentinel.  You can't count on everything working perfectly.  Think margin of error.  Why can't we fly high and fast?" Blair suggested.  "That would be good."

"Cuts the risk of possible detection. I want Ventriss. Taggert wouldn't make contact just for the entertainment."

Blair decided to concentrate on calming down and being quiet.  The rocks, water and trees whipping by became an uninterpretable blur.  Occasionally he managed to shut his eyes completely, on the theory that since he couldn't avoid a crash, he might as well not know one was coming.   Fortunately, he happened to be watching when one of the transport's alert systems began to pulse, complete with a shrill tone.  Jim visibly cringed with a look of pure panic on his face.

Blair slapped his hand around Jim's closest wrist. "Concentrate on another sense, Jim. Smell, touch, anything other than hearing."

Miraculously, Jim managed.  Blair could see the tenseness drain away. Not bad for a beginner. "What was that, anyway?"

"That's our landing site warning. We should see the other transport up ahead, although I'm sure they tried to hide it a little."

Blair gritted his teeth.  Now was not the time to give Jim a lecture on clueing the guide into possible problems.  _Count your blessings.  We're here in one piece._

Then another Security Services transport appeared off to their left, landing artfully under a copse of trees.  Jim circled them in next to the other transport, and ripped off the flight restraints.  "Chief, check out the creek.  I'll get the hover gear."

Blair clambered off the transport, idly wondering if every jaunt with Sentinel S.S.I.  Ellison would be this bad. It almost made the Civilian Tram system in Cascade look desirable.  Didn't the Security Services do anything that wasn't life threatening?  He abandoned that train of thought when he approached the bank of Big Creek.

The word "creek", to Blair's mind anyway, conjured up peaceful images of interesting ripples, shallow, clear water, little water bugs and maybe a tadpole or two.  Serene. Definitely non-threatening. Big Creek was none of these. An alarming amount of water rushed by as the stream bed narrowed and dropped away into what could easily pass for a glacial crevasse. 

Blair turned to see Jim striding towards him, lugging and armful of strange looking equipment.  "We're going down there?"

"Is this going to be a problem, Sandburg? I can go alone."

"Not on your life.  You need me as a check on your depth perception."

"There's nothing wrong with my depth perception," Jim said, his attention absorbed with a complicated looking harness on the hover gear.  "Come over here so I can fit this thing to you."

"Only if you promise to listen to me. It's a sentinel thing." Blair's voice trailed off as he watched Jim deploy the hover equipment designed for two.  This was military gear, and Blair, like most citizens, had never seen one before.  The anti-grav mechanism was tiny, and the restraint netting seemed like mere gossamer. This couldn't possibly support two men. "How does this - could we walk instead?"

"No.  Don't be silly.  Step here, and fasten - right.  Now when we lift off, you just -"

"Oh, shit!"

&&&&&

Liam Kelly started when his com sounded. He vowed to painfully discipline the idiot who couldn't follow orders.  Using complicated subterfuge, he was coordinating the movement of thirty men across Cascade, in pairs and trios, with the intention of staging an attack on the safe house.  It was ridiculously high risk, but Kincaid had ordered it.

Things were bad enough without this. He could easily lose half the strike force just crossing the city.  Communication, both broadcast and receiving, was the quickest way to alert Security Services and blow the whole operation.

"Cut transmission!" he snarled.

"V.C. Kelly, Ellison is gone. Call it off!"

"What?  Gone? How do you know?"

"If you saw the transport that just lit out of here, you wouldn't wonder.  No one else pilots that way.  You wouldn't have any doubt if you'd seen it."

"Tell me what you saw.  Exactly."

The onsite lookout hadn't even finished before he was keying the abort signal.  That done, Kelly melted into the shadows, considering the best route to get himself back to a secure position.

Kincaid would be furious, although this was hardly his fault.  Maybe it was time to start thinking of some other options.

&&&&&

At Kimiko's suggestion, they had waited together in the Akiyama karesansui. She insisted that the dry garden was the most peaceful place on the grounds, and therefore suitable. So they sat, speaking seldom, their hands intertwined.  Their tea sat untouched. 

Steven was torn between hope and despair, and struggled to allow "the beauty of blank space" to work its magic. Kimiko maintained that they could chart their own paths, independent of the decision reached inside Lord Kaoro's private study.  Steven agreed in principle, and strove to keep his own misgivings private.  William Ellison's reversals over the last twenty-four hours stretched credibility. As much as Steven wanted to believe, a lifetime of experience counseled caution.  This seemed too easy to be true.  His father was the master of layered agendas. Steven didn't want Kimiko to be a sacrifice of convenience to that altar.

When the two men emerged, their demeanor revealed nothing. Kimiko rose and bowed to her father. Aiming for total calm, Steven performed the courtesies due his own Head of House.  When Lord Kaoro delivered their decision, the concerns Steven held about his father's motives wavered in the face of Kimiko's smile. He should be overjoyed. He'd bleakly envisioned coming to Kimiko's father, disowned from his position of Ellison Seneschal, his inheritance in question, making his case as a viable suitor, and getting the most logical answer a Head of House could give - a resounding "NO". Yet here were Lords Ellison and Akiyama, beaming as if it had been their idea all along.

Lady Kazuko Akiyama was summoned to allow for formal introductions.  Ceremonially, it could have been an awkward moment.  Lord Kaoro, as the official host, held the honor of leading the negotiations, and therefore was in the position of pre-eminence. Lord William, however, was far his senior in the governing structure.  It would have been entirely within protocol for him to assert that superiority. Steven was relieved, and sincerely grateful, when his father seamlessly assumed the role of secondary and allowed Lord Kaoro to direct the introductions and toasts to the future.

As the conversation progressed to details of timing and the couple's preferences, Steven had an ever-growing sense that consent to the pairing was merely a part of a much larger agreement. The benefits to House Akiyama might be more obvious, but the Head of House Ellison was not motivated by altruism. What did House Akiyama bring to Lord William's broader plans?

And then it dawned on Steven.  Hadn't his father drilled it into his head? When there are winners, there are also losers.  The shuffling of House Ventriss and Plummer, both members of the Founding Fifty, would leave a void waiting to be filled.  William Ellison had a radical view of the future, and he would not leave such a vacuum to chance. What better way to achieve it than by changing the essential composition of the ruling structure? What better concealment of his true agenda than a joining of Houses dictated by love?  The other members of the Council of Lords would miss the actual intention entirely.

Steven's musings nearly caused him to lose track of the conversation. He was rescued by the appearance of Kimiko's younger brothers.  For gawky, rambunctious teenagers, they survived the formal introductions unscathed. Considering their ages, they were well trained and quite poised.  Steven recalled a similar scene, years earlier, when the match between James and Carolyn had been announced.   His performance, based on a genuine antipathy to Carolyn, had earned him a scathing reprimand from Lord William afterwards.

The scene was broken by a ear-shattering tone from his personal com unit.  "My apologies, Lord Akiyama, Lady Akiyama," Steven said, trying to avoid spontaneous combustion from his father's outraged glare.  "I left a channel open for James.  Please excuse me.  My brother wouldn't contact me unless it was an emergency." Kimiko steered him quickly into a more private area.  He cast a parting glance in Lord William's direction, and was acknowledged with a curt nod. Apparently there was a little flexibility where James was concerned.  His father would cover his departure with an abbreviated explanation for Kimiko's parents.

_"Jim? What is that noise? I can hardly hear you."_

_"You're where? By the ancestors, Jim, what the hell are you doing?  You and Sandburg are supposed to be - Ventriss?  You're sure?"_

_"No. No, I don't know, but I can guess who does, and he just happens to be in the next room."_

&&&&&

"I guess I didn't mention that I'm afraid of heights."

"No, Sandburg, you didn't.  I can leave you here, you know."

"Right.  I'm sure everyone will understand when your senses go haywire and some disaster happens.  Who do you think would kill me first, Captain Banks or Sonya Kim?"

Jim smirked.  "Based on current information, my money's on Guide Kim." He finished the adjustments to the double harness.  Their initial test flight had revealed two critical items of information.  Item one - Blair was undoubtedly afraid of heights. Item two - his guide had dismissed the idea of riding behind Jim.  Jim took the position that if Blair's nose was buried in Jim's back, what he couldn't see wouldn't be a problem.  Blair pointed out that if Jim had sensory problems, he had to see to keep them out of trouble.  A blind guide couldn't lead a zoned sentinel. 

Well, he had a point.  How annoying.

Jim got his partner back into the harness, then climbed behind him and settled into the hover mechanism.  He'd had plenty of experience with these off-world, but the double arrangement was a little unfamiliar, and ordinarily used only to haul additional gear or a wounded comrade out of harm's way. "Weight distribution will be a little different, Chief.  I'll circle a couple of times.  Check your com link. Can you hear me? And Taggert?" The head in front of him bobbed.

Jim activated the controls and they moved off the ground. Jim kept it low. He didn't need the altitude for test maneuvers and there was no point in spooking Blair for the entertainment. He did the basic check-out and moved them into position over Big Creek.  The slot canyon seemed impossibly narrow and dark.

"I'm going to keep us above the water, Chief, but Taggert says there's a low spot."  _Well, a couple of low spots, actually, but why bog down in details?_

"Jim, put us down for a minute." Blair twisted around and pointed back toward the ground emphatically.  Jim bit back his annoyance and complied.  It took just a moment to drop them both out of the hover equipment. "Can't do it, Chief?" Jim asked, trying to imagine how he could talk Sandburg into letting him do this solo.

"I'll be fine," Blair said, although his body language didn't exactly match his words.  "I didn't realize how loud the water was." 

Jim shrugged.  "The com units in the head gear are designed to filter out battle noise. They'll do the same for the water. It won't be a problem."

Blair shook his head.  "You may need your hearing.  Come here."

 _If guides are always this bossy, I'm headed for a psych adjustment training._   Jim trailed in Blair's wake to the edge of the slot canyon.  Blair plopped down by the creek bank and patted a boulder for Jim to join him.  He wrapped one hand Jim's wrist.  "We haven't had much time to practice, but I think you can do this.  You need one hand for the hover controls. Put your free hand on my chest."

"What?"  Jim shook his head and touched two fingers to his partner's breast bone.

"Not like that," Blair said, shaking his head. He scooted closer. "I'll be facing away from you. Put your hand flat. Right here." He positioned Jim's hand where he wanted it.  "Can you feel my heartbeat?"

It took a moment, but Jim nodded.

"We're going to link hearing to touch. It's a standard technique, and it's really reliable.  Find my heartbeat. Close your eyes if you need to. It's a concentration thing."

"All I hear is water," Jim started to protest. Then it happened. At first, the pulse of Blair's heart was like a faint echo.  The roar of the creek faded, and the double beat of a living heart took its place. Jim stared at Blair in disbelief. "How…"

Blair nodded.  "Try it again, with me facing away from you."  He swiveled around, mimicking their positions in the hover gear harness.  He had a grip on Jim's arm halfway between wrist and elbow.

Still operating in a haze of amazement, Jim pulled Blair close to his chest and took one deep breath, then another. This time he could feel the heart beat without the hand trick.  The sound fell away.  The experience was so engaging that he almost missed Blair's instructions, which seemed to be whispered from very far away.

"There's a bird behind us, Jim. Find it.  The heartbeat is your anchor, but now you can reach out. Don't try to look. Listen."

 _A bird?  This is nuts._ But he tried anyway. There.  Behind them, about twenty meters back, and up, a harsh, scolding, squawk.  Jim turned quickly to see if his prediction matched reality.  Between one blink and the next he focused in on a smear of blue amongst the fir needles, which resolved itself into a recognizable form.  Full tail, black head with a triangular crest. "Damn, Sandburg. A Jay.  A Stellar Jay."

Blair half turned so they could see each other better. "This is what Sonya Kim was talking about.  Practice. Training.  You'll be able to do things you never imagined." He smiled, clearly pleased. "Can you remember the sequence?"

Jim sighed.  Life before senses seemed a lot simpler, and definitely less confusing. "If you can hover in a cave, I can do this.  Deal?"

"Deal.  Let's go."

&&&&&&

Philip Plummer had hoped to slip away before the rest of his family rose.  His task was not one he wished to share with those he loved.

Despite his brief absence and return, the reception following the formal investiture, though simple by current standards, had been long enough.  When he'd finally ushered his wife and children into the transport to return home, both children had promptly fallen asleep.  Any thoughts Philip had of joining them in a blissful retreat to bed vanished when they had arrived on their own doorstep.  Their personal friends had gathered and assembled an impromptu celebration. After a long, tense day, they'd been happy to surrender to the open arms and the joyous laughter of trusted friends. Toasts had lasted far into the night.

Now the new day had arrived, attended by stark reality. He had serious duties to attend to.

Dressed simply, he sought the kitchens. He preferred to complete this task before the entire household was awake and buzzing.  His entrance startled the young women who assisted their chef, already deep in preparations for sumptuous mid-morning spread for the family and the friends who had stayed over. 

Apparently the staff was as excited as the rest of the household.  It was all he could do to rein them in from more elaborate designs and make his wishes clear. Yes, many of their guests had stayed over.  He would return for the fun. Right now, coffee and fruit and haste were the order of the day.

"Papa, where are you going? Can I come with you?"

 _Nabbed in the act._   Philip turned and scooped his pajama-clad son into his arms for a hug and a tickle.  "What are you doing up, Kyllan?  Aren't you still sleepy?"

Kyllan promptly yawned.  "I'm not sleepy.  I want to come."

Ah, the single mindedness of a six-year-old. "Sorry, little man. I'll be back soon." He looked quickly at the other occupants of the kitchen, communicating his need for an imminent rescue.

The taller of the two girls answered his wordless plea. She knelt down to Kyllan's level. "You want to leave? But we were just about to make pancakes. I need someone experienced to help."  She shook her head sadly.  "I asked your father, but he needs to go.  What am I going to do?"

"Sounds serious," said Philip. "They might have to cancel breakfast.  Sure you don't want to help out?"

"What kind?" Kyllan asked, some of his soft sleepiness dropping away.  Hands-on sojourns to the kitchen were considered a great treat.

"Uhm," Philip said, looking across the kitchen for a hint.  The other assistant waggled a yellow fruit suggestively.  "Banana, I believe."

"But now that you're here," suggested the other girl, "we might be able to do chocolate chip, and we can't use those without a taste tester."

The mention of chocolate shifted the balance. Testing commenced immediately. Kyllan climbed onto his father's lap for a farewell hug, his mouth full of the first sample.

Philip paused to give his boy an extra squeeze and escaped to his personal flyer.  He set the course and surrendered to regret.  Soft billows of morning fog covered his route, and matched his mood. This was a journey he'd never wished to travel.  A Head of House controlled the destinies of all who looked to him, and this was one decision he could never unravel.

Long after Melissa had dropped into sleep, he'd lain awake, exhausted but unable to rest.  The news he'd dreaded had been delivered by secure message as night dwindled into dawn.  Carolyn had withstood the questioning.  To resign himself to that outcome was unacceptable.  Without the Plummer assets and information in the secret accounts, he would fail as Head of House. That failure would be visited on the heads of his children, and those of his nieces and nephews.

Carolyn was nothing if not stubborn. Philip could see no other alternative than to follow the advice of the interrogators.  They were trained in this art, and he was not. It was now his duty to be present when the most aggressive methods were applied.  The attendant damage to Carolyn's personality and intellect would also be his responsibility to bear.  His sister, his only sister, would be irrevocably changed.    

Such was reality for a Head of House.

Philip switched to autopilot and stared bleakly out the view panel, watching the gray clouds swirl silently away in his wake. The warm kitchen, smelling of coffee and toast and pancakes seemed very far away.  His boy, that sweet, carefree child, would someday follow him as Head of House Plummer.  Philip whispered a silent plea, that his children would love each other, that never would they be faced with the pain that loomed before him.

&&&&&&


	4. Chapter 4

Guide Finding Chapter 4

"There.  To our right.”Blair stared to the right, trying to follow Jim's assurance that the rest of the Major Incident team was near.

There was no denying the technical brilliance of Security Services hardware.  Blair was keenly aware that the clarity of Jim’s speech through the com equipment was at odds with the physical presence of the water churning beneath them. Language didn’t have an adequate description for the unadjusted roar of water rushing through the slot.

They were deep underground, past the point where the narrow slot canyon walls joined to produce a true cave.  In places the passage abruptly widened, and the flow spread into a wild tracing of braided watery threads, dodging around and over boulders that loomed like dark mushrooms.  The air was heavy with spray, deflecting the light beacons on their equipment into flickering shadows and rainbows that danced just beyond their reach. The air pulsed with vibrations above, below, around. 

At a sensory level it was overwhelming, even for someone without enhanced senses.  He could tell when Jim was struggling - he'd involuntarily hold his breath and grab with the hand that wasn't committed with the hover controls.  The guide portion of Blair’s consciousness was consumed with keeping his Sentinel centered.  So far they hadn't crashed, but more than once Jim had been forced into full stationary hover, overwhelmed by the visual and auditory distractions.

The decision to practice the most basic anchoring technique had paid off.  For a newly emerging sentinel, Jim responded well to Blair’s directions, even under these incredibly challenging conditions.  He could focus on Blair's heartbeat with impressive speed and accuracy. To Blair's chagrin, the greater challenge was keeping his own focus rather than holding his sentinel's. Visions of being sucked into that dark water kept Blair on the continual verge of panic, and his heart beat out an insistent accompaniment.  Most experienced sentinels would be alarmed by their guide's lack of calm. It was pure luck that Jim didn't know enough to be bothered.

Jim swung them in a slow curve, angling just beyond an impressive fountain of spray.  Tucked in behind were the three amigos, Taggert, Brown and Rafe.  Rafe had the nerve to be munching on a ration bar. Jim brought them down gently next them, sharing their boulder island in a tempestuous sea.  Blair was grateful for Brown's anchoring hand and a solid surface beneath his feet.

Jim waited until Blair was fully clear of the restraint netting before disengaging the hover mechanism and coming to rest. "Nice place for a picnic, guys."

"Hey, I'll share," Rafe said cheerfully, offering half of his ration bar.  "Be glad we found something comparatively dry."

"Nothing in this place is dry," grumbled Brown.

Blair had to agree.  In some spots the cave ceiling had descended to ominously low levels. Suspended in the restraint netting placed him lower than Jim, and there had been no way through other than to plunge his lower legs and feet into the flood, even though the powerful currents had sucked ominously at his feet and legs.  He was thoroughly soaked and shivering.

Jim was immediately drawn into a complicated conversation with Taggert, translating the sensor results before everything went dark.  Definitely not Blair’s area of expertise. Following Brown’s lead, he settled down with one of the ration bars & and a plastotube drink which miraculously heated when Brown mashed it in his large hands. Blair downed it gratefully. He didn’t recognize the taste, but the brew warmed him right down to his thoroughly damp toes.

“Quite the place, isn’t it?” Rafe said.  “Did you see the crystal veins in the rock?  No wonder the geo types are nuts about this place.”

 Blair shook his head.  “I had other things to concentrate on, guys.”

Both junior officers caught his drift. Brown made a slight adjustment to his com unit, apparently isolating their conversation from that of Jim and Taggert. “How’s he doing?”he asked, looking surreptitiously in Jim’s direction. “Anything we need to worry about?”

“Jim’s doing great,” Blair said, shaking his head.  “More him than me, I suspect.  How do you guys do this stuff?  I’m scared to death I’m going under and never coming up.”

"Relax," Rafe said, handing him another ration bar.  "The hover equipment is the safety net, and the military types test it in worse conditions than this. It's fun."

Blair shook his head.  "We need to work on your definition of 'fun'. This is not it."

The senior officers chose that moment to rejoin the conversation, sparing Blair the necessity of explaining the definition of "fun" to his grinning comrades.  More Security Services wizardry generated a small scale holo, which they all clustered around while Taggert narrated. Blair considered himself reasonably savvy in technical areas, but he found it a struggle to interpret the projection with the ease of the others.  It sobered him to imagine how much he would need to learn to assist Jim in his professional setting.  Heads were nodding in agreement, but Blair had no clue what they were agreeing upon.

"Uh, guys, I'm a bit lost here. I need the civilian version."

"You're doing fine, Chief," Jim said. "Short version, they found them. I'm sure of it."

"Ventriss?  Really?" Blair's eyes widening in amazement.

"No ID," Taggert said.  "Even without it, Jim agrees. Apparently the sensor shielding is focused above ground.  They didn't worry about someone searching from the slot cave for obvious reasons. Who would be crazy enough?"

"Us," Rafe said cheerfully.

Taggert gave him a reproving look and continued, gesturing to the holo. "Before everything went dark, we located an area the right size for a dock, the transport, and two individuals, probably Lord Norman and his Seneschal.  We just have to find the entrance.  That's where you and Jim come in."

"Now that we have the location, we'll find it. I want that bastard Ventriss rotting in a detention cell," Jim said.  "Which means we go outside."

"Back the way we came?"  Blair hoped his voiced hadn't squeaked.  "Out" sounded excellent at this point. Another dunking in the low places wasn't as appealing.

Taggert shook his head, already gearing up.  "No point.  We've come most of the way. It's shorter to keep going. We'll pop out through the falls on the far end."

"Lovely," Blair muttered. "Cold and wet is my world."

&&&&&

Lynch Gentry nodded to the two men he'd chosen for this little foray into the wilderness.  They were well trained, reliable men.  In silence they rose as one, and moved toward the pack animals which had been left grazing just out of sight.

Lynch waited until he knew they were out of earshot. He gazed fondly at his mother, propped up against a nest of blankets, breathing softly in her sleep. They'd called a halt immediately when the Security Services transport had streaked by just above their heads. It was far more prudent to stop than to risk calling attention to themselves or their intended destination. The decision also provided a convenient excuse to give Willa the rest she'd consistently refused during their night march.

She'd dozed off after they'd settled and shared a bite. Knowing his mother, she would have gone on until she dropped, and would never have asked for relief. That was Willa Gentry in brief, an iron will trapped in a failing body. 

Life was hard in the Boundary, and Willa had endured a harder road than most.  Here in the quiet, Lynch saw the ravages of age and a hard life.  It was as if her fierce life force was burning itself out all too soon.  Her hair had grayed early, no doubt from the strain of managing two young boys without a spouse, generating an income in a place without a legal economy or rule of law. The dappled light accentuated her face, worn with worry lines and fatigue.  Could she be ill, and had chosen to turn over control rather than confess the truth to her sons?  Lynch had to admit the possibility was consistent with her character.  He gently brushed an errant lock of hair off her forehead and discarded the theory.  Willa was far more pragmatic than deceptive.  She wouldn't conceal an illness.

Lynch rocked back on his heels.  She'd been strangely quiet, ever since they'd argued over her decision to free that guide.  Now that he thought about it, something about the whole experience had wrought a change in her.  When pressed, the closest Willa had come to an explanation was to say that the man had reminded her of Colm, his long departed father.  She made no effort to justify herself further.  His own memories of the long-dead man were vague, but those who knew him better considered Colm a strong, vital man, a leader and an idealist. It was the last characteristic that set him apart from the other men and women who had rebelled against their oppressors.

He heard the distinctive rustle of the pack animals being led through the undergrowth.  He'd have to puzzle out Willa's thinking later.  If they could throw a net over Lord Ventriss, maybe that would loosen her tongue.  He sighed, and shook his mother's shoulder.  "Mama, time to move."

&&&&&

Eli Stoddard stirred his tea gently, idly watching strands of honey dissolve into the warmed liquid.  Better that than to contemplate the growing frailties of age. His recent consultations with S.I. Connor and her "mates", as she would call them, had been invigorating but exhausting.  Although his mind was still spinning with the complications of the Sandburg case, with all its entanglements across their society, he needed some rest. He was grateful to have a quiet morning to regroup, and  had nothing more complicated planned than a morning contemplating his roses in the garden.

"Darling, were you expecting someone this morning?"

Stoddard  gave the tea a final stir and set the spoon aside with a sigh.  "Do I need to speak to our dear Megan about these early calls?"

"The young woman on the entrance vid is definitely not our favorite Aussie."  Ramona Stoddard apparently found the comment rather funny.  "Honestly, Eli, I'm beginning to suspect you have a harem on the side.  How many men your age have a string of lovely young women appearing on the doorstep?"

"Not Connor?"

"Not Connor." His wife's eyes sparkled with pure mischief.   "As your long-suffering spouse, I suggest you get moving.  The young lady looks quite anxious." 

Well, that was clear enough.  Eli heard her laugh as he sped towards the door. "Be sure to think up an explanation in the meantime, Dearest," she called after him. "I'm always in the mood for a good joke."

In his haste, he skidded on the polished floor all the way to the door.  Honestly, he'd need to start wearing shoes in the house until this was over.  He skipped the conversation with the admittance screen and opened the door to a young woman he recognized but couldn't place. "Good morning, young lady."

He immediately regretted his abrupt approach. The woman flinched away, spun around and started to flee.  "Wait!" Stoddard padded after her, keenly aware that he must look foolish as his stocking feet soaked up the damp of the early morning dew.  "I didn't mean to startle you.  Don't go."

She paused, but didn't stop.  "Excuse my intrusion, Professor Stoddard. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry -"

Her use of "Professor" instead of "Minister" jogged his memory at last.  "Meecha.  It's Meecha, isn't it?  You're Chancellor Edwards' assistant."

She froze, but managed a nod.

 _She's terrified._   Stoddard extended his hand.  "We've gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, haven't we. Why don't you come in, and we can start over from the beginning."  He waited, hoping she wouldn't give in to panic.  What could he say to reassure her?  "Please.  You have something to tell me, don't you?  Something important, perhaps?"

She said nothing.  Her chin quivered ever so slightly, and she wrapped both arms a bit more tightly about a cloth carryall that was slung over her shoulder and clutched against her chest.  Finally, she moved forward, and he took her arm, guiding her towards the house.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I couldn't think of anywhere else to go.  She has spies - everywhere. They were at my residence. I have a child to think of."

"She cannot reach here.  Not in this house," Stoddard said firmly. "Not now, and not ever."

&&&&&

The Cognitive Interrogation Facility was an ominous place, conjuring up tales both exaggerated and frightening accurate. Within the aristocratic houses, everyone knew of its existence and fervently hoped never to behold its doors. Philip's initial visit had come under the cover of dark.  Seeing the place in the light of day, with its gray stone exterior and narrow slit windows, chilled him with a genuine tinged with grief. 

_So it had come to this._

The distance from the outdoor docking pad to an arched portico was shrouded in wispy fog.  There was no challenge.  Apparently the guard units had be briefed to expect him. 

Once he breached the covered entry, a heavily armed Council of Lords Security Officer appeared.  "Though the second doors, Lord Plummer. They are waiting."

"Thank you, Officer."  _Of course they are waiting.  No one else will shoulder the blame for this._

The two interrogation specialists, one man, one woman, rose as he entered the room.  Carolyn was perched in a restraint netting, hovering listlessly over the polished floor. Even though Philip had steeled himself, her appearance was shocking.  Every strand of hair had been removed, and her head was covered with neural pads, each one with a unique tracery of pulsing sensors.  Her breathing was ragged, her face and hands puffy.  Although the process was not physically intrusive, the body systems still reacted to the forcible intrusion upon the brain.

Philip strove to keep his face blank, and clenched his fists to still the trembling of his hands.  "Status, Specialist?"

"We believe we have half of the secret House accounts your father was using for his liaison with Kincaid.  Your father's staff has indicated that an antique ledger from Pre-Provincial times is missing from his desk, which undoubtedly will give us leads to the remaining funds.  She has also refused to reveal the location of the House Plummer jewels and other regalia she had in her possession."

 _The ledger.  Of course, his father would use that damned ledger._   Philip sighed.  No doubt it showed every last visit Kincaid ever made to the estate, confirming his father's treason.  The ledger's continued existence was a double threat to his sister.  As Seneschal, she couldn't possibly maintain her ignorance of Connal Plummer's activities, making her an accomplice to Treason Against the Province.  The same evidence thoroughly justified her removal as heir.  The House jewels - well, that was just spite.  Carolyn was willful and vengeful enough to deny any of her relatives their ancestral finery.

Philip nodded, and moved close to the netting. "Carolyn, you know why I'm here."

Carolyn flinched in the restraint, her eyes flying open. She tried to kick out at him, to no avail.  That was precisely why the restraint netting was used.  Without a point of leverage, she was no physical danger to herself or those around her.  Her lips drew back in a snarl. "I'll - never - tell."

"Carolyn, you will.  You know this.  They're going to introduce the virus, and there's no going back.  Please don't bring this upon yourself."

His sister screamed in helpless rage. "And what? Clear the way for you and your whore to establish a false house?  To sit like a potted plant and play the dutiful, witless sister while you bring your own children into destiny?"

"Carolyn, I'll relocate you, if that's what you want, anywhere you want.  You'll be Daughter of House Plummer, treated with respect, with funds to -"

"Nooo!"  And then it all began to pour out, incoherently, savagely. Her plans to force James back to her side through the guide, to dominate both House Plummer and House Ellison, to grasp for ever more control.  Philip was appalled, both by the scope of her plans and the impossibility of their success.  James? No threat, no promise, no manipulation would ever bring James back to their shattered pairing. He drew back, shocked by the extent of her madness.

He had no choice.  None.

Philip turned his back to his sister. There was nothing else he could do. "Please administer the virus. Try to break her quickly, if you can."

The look on the Specialists' faces left him no illusions.

&&&&&

To Blair's profound disappointment, their departure from the watery, subterranean world that was Big Creek turned out to be neither swift nor immediate.  To add to the indignity, it was his own fault.

_Why, oh why, hadn't he kept his smart ideas to himself?_

During the time it took the Major Incident team to pack equipment and prepare for an exit, Jim had given him a more thorough explanation of the search holo, probably to keep his thoroughly civilian guide distracted. The whole thing had been rather fascinating. Blair blurted out a couple of questions before really thinking through the consequences. Why had he picked that moment to share with Jim that some sentinels had the ability to detect the signature of dense electronic pulses through a combination of sensitivity to ions in the air and other materials?

He'd belatedly caught the gleam in Jim's eye. Before he could say, "But you're not trained!" Jim was already on the move.  While the others went on ahead, he had Blair back in the restraint harness.  They were in near stationary hover, meticulously moving along the slot wall, Jim's bare hands skimming just above the rock surface.  They were working a side-to-side pattern, rising about a foot on each pass. It took time.  The cloud of spray and damp crawled back into Blair's bones.

The closer they came to the surface, the narrower the slot become - uncomfortably so.  "Jim - uhm, this is getting really claustrophobic, man."

Jim's voice echoed through the com link. "I swear the air feels different here."

"Seriously, this is a very specific skill. There's probably too much moisture in the air.  Really, Jim, I should have never suggested it."

"Just a little higher."

"I've created a monster - whoa!" Jim stopped so quickly it snapped Blair's head forward and banged it sharply off the cave wall. "Ow.  What was that?"

Jim had his hands bracketing a space slightly bigger than his head.  "Chief, reach around to my left hip.  No, lower pocket."

Blair shifted in the harness and stretched, straining to get his fingers into the pocket on Jim's thigh.

"Right.  Feel around.  There's a cylinder - yeah - don't drop the damn thing!"

Blair willed his frozen, stiff fingers to be nimble and steady.

"Great.  There's a seal on the back.  Peel it off with your teeth.  Don't drop it, whatever you do."

 _How do I get myself into these things?_ Blair cupped the metal and scraped the lower surface as directed.  The taste was awful, but he pulled a thin plastolayer away and spat it out. "Now what?"

"There's adhesive on that side. Stick it right between my hands. Look for a smooth section on the rock."

Blair did his best, wishing he could see Jim's eyes. Facing away, perched in the restraint netting, there was no way to turn.  He had no clue what he was doing, or what Jim was up to. He found what seemed to be a likely spot and shoved the thing against the rock.  Even here, at least a hundred feet above the water, it was still damp and clammy.

"Push hard, and don't let go until I tell you. Twist it just a bit." Jim shifted his hands below the cylinder, which was apparently precious.  "Pull your hands away."

By some miracle, the thing held.  Without another word, Jim had dropped them back to the creek surface and was heading for the entrance.  Blair's stomach flipped ominously as they lost altitude in the blackness of the slot.

"What was all that about?" Blair demanded. They were going much faster, his feet throwing splashes when Jim had to duck low.  The walls of the slot canyon were whipping by in a blur.

"Those bastards can shut stuff down and try to hide, but we just set a beacon.  It's close to the surface and autosets to high intensity."  Blair could practically hear Jim's smile through the comlink. "Now we collect the guys and follow that baby home."

&&&&&

Steven tried without success to relax into the seat webbing of the pilot's station.  Kimiko occupied the forward seat opposite him.  She smiled and discreetly rolled her eyes toward the passenger seats in the compartment behind them.  Her expressive face was easy to read, something along the lines of, "Parents. What can you do?"

What indeed?  A simple sibling request for information from the Head of House had mutated into a field expedition.  No surprise William Ellison was a hard man to dissuade, and Kimiko's father was no better. Steven's personal flyer was streaking along toward Jim's coordinates with both Lords Akiyama and Ellison in tow. Not exactly your dream payload. Steven idly wondered why his life had to be so complicated and embarrassing.

"You'd think they'd been friends for years," whispered Kimiko, peeking around the padding of her seat.  "Does it worry you?"

"By the ancestors, yes.  I have enough trouble with one sovereign lord."

Kimiko patted his hand gently.  "Try to relax.  How much trouble can they get into right this minute?"

Steven nodded.  As usual, his chosen was calm, sensible, insightful and undoubtedly correct. He tried to concentrate on his flying. He was flying low, as Jim had requested, and that took precision.  The scenery, as Kimiko frequently pointed out, was dramatic - early morning sun slanting through ranks of dark conifers.  Despite all the legitimate activities engaging his attention, he kept catching snippets of conversation from the passenger cabin.   Steven recognized serious political wrangling when he heard it. Both men  knew what they wanted, and were willing to exploit each other to mutual advantage.  Knowing his father's capacity for the unexpected, it made Steven nervous.

He made their last major course change and brought the flyer lower still.  "Ten minutes or less, gentlemen.  You can stretch one last time and then secure for landing," he called out. He visibly cringed in Kimiko's direction, belatedly wishing his tone had been more formal. No point in offending the father and Lord of his intended before the ceremony.

"Excellent," said Lord Akiyama. "My compliments on your piloting skills, Steven."

"Thank you, Lord Akiyama."

Kimiko slipped from her seat.  She kissed his temple and whispered, "See? He doesn't hate you. I'll go back and chat with them, keep the pair of them out of trouble."  With a mischievous smile she patted his shoulder.  "You can thank me later." 

Steven liked the sound of that.

&&&&&

Eli Stoddard looked up from the vid player. Carefully, he counted the vid chips, once, then again.  Besides the three he'd viewed, there were twenty six more.  Twenty nine little electronic bundles of the most damning evidence he'd ever seen.  More than he'd hoped. More than he'd ever dreamed.

"My dear Meecha, how did you get these? Has the Chancellor no security or sense of self preservation?"

There was no hint of triumph in the young woman's eyes. She had a dermal pad, impregnated with analgesic cream, pressed against the burns just under her collarbone.   Ramona had taken one look at the damaged clothing and angry looking scald marks and had bundled the girl off for a change of clothing and treatment.  His wife gestured towards the closest armchair, and she settled opposite Stoddard, hugging a soft wrap around her shoulders with a free hand. "I copied her retinal scan, at her request."  She shrugged ever so slightly.  "I made an extra copy. Based on what I knew of Chancellor Edwards, even early on, it seemed - prudent.  She's so vengeful and unpredictable.  I thought I might need protection.  After I started, I was shocked.  Not just by the actions, but..."

"That she would keep detailed records of such behavior." 

Meecha nodded.  "She's an arrogant woman, Minister Stoddard.  Maybe she's overconfident.  There's really no one to challenge her, and that frightened me even more."  Meecha's eyes flicked away.  "She seems more volatile recently.  Less cautious."

"I have to agree."  Eli shook his head.  He had no love for Edwards, but when this came out, it would scar Rainier University for years.  How could she have so little regard for the privilege of the office?  "And the assault on your person?" Eli asked gently.

"Over nothing.  It - I just can't bear her treatment any longer."  Her eyes brimmed with tears.  "I've worked hard for my position.  My child is guaranteed admission to the University. I'll lose everything if I just leave. So I took the vid files."

"As protection.  A way to make a deal," Stoddard said.

"Yes.  Not blackmail.  I know that doesn't sound right.  I just want some way to make it stop.  To keep her from coming after me and not lose all means of employment.  She's so vindictive."  She looked down again.  "I remembered you, from the times you were at the University.  You're the only one that doesn't seem afraid of her and that I could trust."

"And I will try to live up to that appraisal. Do you know what is on these vids?"

"Some of it.  The fact that she kept them hidden was enough to tell me a lot." Meecha finally looked up, and stared sadly into the distance.  "Besides being mean-spirited, she's very unethical."

Stoddard glanced at his wife, who nodded. The young woman was so withdrawn and dispirited it was difficult to take her measure, but he agreed with his wife's silent assessment.  Meecha was the critical key they had all been hoping for.

"Meecha, I'm going to answer your trust with a confidence of my own.  I've been assisting with an investigation of Chancellor Edwards, along with other Provincial authorities.  I must ask you if you are willing to share what you know."

Meecha's expression was wary.  "Which Provincial authority, Minister?"

"Yes, that is the all-important question, isn't it? I think I know just the person to put your mind at ease."  He smiled at his wife.  "My dear, would you contact Megan?  Ask if she could stop by? Perhaps we could enjoy some of those lovely cinnamon rolls you made yesterday."

&&&&&

Blair could finally see daylight.  His relief was enormous, until they zipped under the arc of low stone and shit -nothing!

Jim brought them around in a broad circle to look back. Big Creek shot out of the narrow slot to plunge straight down a really long way down.  It was impressive, both in sound and sight. It was also damn scary. He fought against the rise of panic. "How far, Jim?"

"Forty - fifty feet.  Can you see past the water?"

"There's more?"

"Yeah," said Jim.  "It's undercut.  There's a grotto in there, and it's huge.  I've lived here all my life and I never knew this place existed."

"Where's Taggert?" Blair asked.

"He took the guys and followed the beacon." Jim tapped his comlink as he dropped down the length of the fall, making spirals rather than a straight drop. This time their descent was slower, and Blair's relief was palpable.  "You really don't like heights, do you?"

"That would be 'No', as in definitely, absolutely, NO."

Jim settled them on a patch of gravel, dotted with scattered tufts of grass.  If Big Creek had been swift and strong above the slot canyon, below it was a wild, angry torrent.  He gave Blair a nudge. "It's going to drop another couple hundred feet before it joins the river, and that's only a mile or so away."

"Well, I'm glad I'm looking at it and not in it," Blair said, stripping off the restraint netting.  "You scored my total hit list of things to avoid - heights, wet, cold.  Promise me we won't do that again soon."

"It's going to be worth it if we get Ventriss, don't you think?"  A silence stretched on until Jim realized that his generally talkative guide had gone silent. He pivoted sharply to see a Blair he hardly recognized, tense and tightlipped with anger.  "Chief?

"My mother taught that doing intentional harm damaged the soul of the doer.  To kill was to kill oneself."  When he looked at Jim, his eyes were blue fire.  "I want Ventriss dead, by my own hand if needed."

Jim didn't consider himself a particularly empathetic individual, but there was no missing the intensity of that statement. He let the hover equipment settle onto the ground, and grabbed Blair's shoulders with his hands. "And you know you can't. He's going to pay, Sandburg. Inside Provincial Justice, or if necessary, outside it.  You have my word on that."

"I should be ashamed."  Blair's eyes drifted close, and his body stayed tense. "Naomi didn't raise me to believe in vengeance. She'd say it just generates very negative energy thinking that way.  That you drain your own soul."  Blair's voice drifted off, lost in thoughts that were taking him to a very bleak and hopeless place.

Jim went back to consolidating their equipment. "I want to get moving," he said briskly.  "And Sandburg?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever apologize for loving your mother. Not to me."

&&&&&

Cognitive Interrogation was not for the faint of heart. Philip stayed out of a sense of duty, but eventually the sounds of the procedures drove him outside into the mists of early morning.  A crushed stone path meandered through an abandoned garden, out to a small fountain nearly hidden beneath layers of moss and neglect.  His feet on the shifting stone sounded like despair.

On his third traverse of the grounds, Philip stopped, staring forlornly at the fountain.  He didn't know the history of this place. Had it been happy once? Occupied by a family? Young lovers, perhaps, or a country retreat before the chaos times.  With his hands clasped behind his back, he watched the clouds drifting to the east, carried by the prevailing winds.  How had it come to this?  Brother against sister, locked in a struggle for control.  Memories of Carolyn darted through his memories; tempestuous, beautiful, talented Carolyn, her blond hair ruffling in the wind while they raced across the grass together.

When the sun began to break through the clouds, he realized that he'd lost track of time.  He trudged back, wishing that it was over and fearing that it was so. As he crested the last hill, and the stone walls came into view, an officer was waiting for him. "Excuse me, Officer, I apologize for losing track of the time."

"The process takes time, Lord Plummer, and I believe we have success.  Retrieval teams acted on the information we obtained quickly, and we have it available for your examination."

Philip followed, not wanting to think too hard on the costs and definition of success.

When they entered, he realized that the sounds of the interrogation, which had driven him out in the first place, were no more. The place was deadly silent. The interrogation team was waiting expectantly, flanking a table spread with a variety of objects and containers, which Philip began to examine.

A velvet bag.  Philip tugged at the drawstring, revealing some of the Plummer gems, including a beautiful citrine and sapphire cloak pin.  His Melissa would wear at least some of her emblems of her station after all.

The senior interrogator stepped forward and held out a partially smashed wooden chest.  "Lord Plummer, I believe you wish to see this."

Philip carefully laid back the lid, which swung precariously on shattered hinges.  Inside was a recording device typically installed in reception areas.  In this case, Philip recognized the chest as coming from his father's reception study.  He activated the summary feature.  Over the last six months, the only visitor more frequent than Carolyn was the infamous Garrett Kincaid, complete with meeting notes.  Nothing like leaving a trail for Law and Justice.  Did his father really believe he wouldn't be caught?

Philip shut the lid gently.  "Load everything into my transport."

"We also retrieved your sister's com equipment." The officer held out two sealed plastobags.  "The other critical materials are hidden in a stone at your sister's home.  You are familiar with it?"

Philip scowled.  He should have known.  That granite block Carolyn was so proud of.  "Yes. I know it."

"You'll find the codes required to enter the premises and dermal sheets to access a compartment in this stone block. We believe that all the other items are concealed there."

"Thank you, Officer.  I would like to see my sister."

The senior interrogator avoided his glance. "Perhaps, Lord Plummer, it would be best to wait a day or two.  Sometimes the damage appears worse than it is in the early hours."

Philip shook his head.  Waiting would not make this any easier.

The senior interrogator spoke softly as he entered the room. "We find that orientation with childhood objects is most effective in the early stages.  I assure you, there will be progress from her current state."

Carolyn had been freed from the restraint net. She'd been moved to a reclining chair, padded, with small clips at the ankles and wrists. A technician was displaying objects, one at a time, waiting for Carolyn to respond.  He spoke so softly that Philip could barely hear him as he prompted each object.  A doll. An apple.  A knitted woolen cap. A mechanical clock, corroded and scratched, which Philip recognized as having come from Carolyn's childhood room.

As far as Philip knew, the clock didn't run all that well, sometimes not at all, but Carolyn had been fascinated with it as a child. The technician was arranging the hands, asking about time.  Philip strained to hear what Carolyn was saying, then realized that she wasn't. The attendant brought the clock close. She traced each moving hand with her finger; silent, fascinated but without recognition.  Philip realized that his sister's eyes were as blank as the dial of the old clock.

The person known as Carolyn Frances Plummer was gone.

&&&&&

Lynch sheltered his mother under his arm and watched the sky apprehensively.  His small party had little time to dive for cover before they were overflown. His two men and the pack animals had plunged into a ravine, barely hidden by overhanging branches. He'd dragged Willa the opposite direction into the shelter of a boulder field.  The men had their instructions.  If the vessel circled back, they would break cover and lead them away, then separate and head for one of their bolt holes.  Only a very determined pursuer would bother to follow. Lynch didn't place a higher value on his own life than those of his subordinates, but he'd put them at risk to protect his mother.

The vessel came into view, another transport flying low, and by the profile, a high-credit model.  Lynch sucked in a breath.  Only aristocratic houses of high status had the resources for that kind of vessel. According to his sources, the Ventriss son was in custody, and the Ventriss Seneschal was probably with Lord Norman. If not House Ventriss, then who?

The other candidates were a serious point of concern. House Plummer was in disarray, but what if Kincaid was still pulling the strings?  Kincaid was supposed to be in detention, but he had plenty of minions to do his bidding.  Who else? What of the rumor that House Plummer was a proxy for a more powerful house.  Damn.  His mother had been right all along.  He should have never tried to sell that guide to the highest bidder.

The ship streaked by overhead, followed by silence. Lynch risked breaking cover to strain for a good view.  Private transport, small, carrying no more than four or five, and he caught a glimpse of a family crest.  The speed of the vessel was impressive and his view obscured.  Lynch swore in frustration.

"Eagle," whispered Willa. "Eagle and chevrons." She shuddered under Lynch's arm.

"Mama?  What is it?" Lynch tightened his arm around her thing shoulders. Her eyes were closed, with a look of pain on her face.

"I've seen it before.  So long ago," she murmured, lost in her own thoughts.

Lynch glanced toward his men, whose heads were just popping into view.  He waved them back, and waited. Willa rarely mentioned the past, but when she did, it was usually worth his full attention.

"During the rebellion - at the end, the provincial authorities held back.  It had been a hard fight, with much loss on both sides.  They lacked the resources, and their command structure was in tatters.  The aristos took matters into their own hands.  Each House brought their own forces, and acted independently.  Some were rabid, attacking anything, slaughtering children, unarmed people running in fear.  You had to know - "

Lynch stroked her hand gently.  "Know what, Mama?"

"Which ones.  You had to know which ones would target innocents." She opened her eyes, the memory having run its course.  "Eagle and Chevron is House Ellison.  Powerful, determined, but not crazy.  Not vicious."

"Were they in the final assault?" Lynch asked. Anger coiled through his gut. He never forgot that the aristocratic houses had ended his father's life and, with it, aborted the Boundary's attempt for justice and a better life.

"Yes," Willa said, her eyes hard. "But they turned back the slaughter.  Ruthless, but with restraint.  In the end, they prevented a genocide."  Her entire body stiffened.  "Why are they here?"

"I don't know, Mama," Lynch said. In the distance, he could barely detect the fading trace of the departed transport.  "Trust me.  We'll find out."

&&&&&

Megan Connor traced the now familiar path to the Stoddard home.  Standing in the entry, Eli's wife gave her a hushed account of their meeting with Meecha Foster. Connor's eyes went wide at her description of the treasure trove Meecha had arrived with.

"Vid files? From the Chancellor's office?" Connor's mind raced ahead. The potential impact on the Sandburg corruption case was immense, but how to proceed with maximum benefit?

"I know.  Eli was almost speechless when they started to review them."

"I don't doubt it.  Why didn't he take them directly to Prosecutor Sanchez?"

Ramona Stoddard shook her head in warning. "I know Eli, my dear. He was shocked. Chancellor Edward's records far exceed Eli's suspicions.  Eli has dedicated his life to the pursuit of knowledge and academic truth.  He's frightened, dear, frightened about what this means for Rainier University."

"He wants to save it, not destroy it," Megan said softly.  "Evidence like this could bring the whole thing down."

"Exactly.  Not to mention that the young woman is terrified.  It takes great courage, and great desperation, for the powerless to move against the powerful.  She has a child to protect, Megan."

Connor frowned.  She was on her own.  If she delayed to consult with Captains Taggert and Banks, Meecha Foster could easily lose her nerve and be lost to them. The trick was to bring the evidence in without leaving a smart advocate any means of objection. There had to be a way - and then a smile crossed her face.  Austro-Pacific tended to be a bit more creative in investigative technique. The Captain's would be - well, in the end, Taggert and Banks could be placated with results.  "Make the introductions, and I'll take it from there."

Introductions were made, tea served, pastries nibbled. Connor mentally made an inventory of the young woman opposite her.  Intelligent, soft-spoken, hazel eyes and long auburn hair, carefully bound at the nape of the neck.  Errant strands escaping from the carefully arranged hair and deep shadows under the eyes hinted at a night of fear and stress.  Megan inquired about her injuries, had her repeat the details of Edwards' assault on her person.

"Specialist Foster, where is your child right now?"

"My boy is with a friend." Meecha's eyes flickered with fear. "Is he in danger?"

"We're going to make sure he isn't. With your permission, I'll have him brought to you immediately.  I can arrange for you to be together, out of the Chancellor's reach.

Meecha's eyes narrowed.  She'd watched Marie Edwards cut years worth of illicit deals, enough to thoroughly understand the concept of quid pro quo. "And what do I need to do for this safety - Megan?"  The hesitation and the inflection were clear.

The moment had come.  Connor had one shot and she knew it.  "My work comes down to this, Meecha. When innocents are exploited and victimized, they deserve protection.  My current assignment specifically concerns a young man who lost everything, and nearly lost his life, but still tries to live with honor and courage. Chancellor Edwards may have hurt a lot of people, but I want to make sure she pays for her cruelty. I can't quite prove it yet, not for Provincial justice, but this -".  She waved her hand towards the vid records Meecha had brought. "These will tie Edwards and all her powerful friends to their crimes.  I can't do it without you."

Meecha's lip trembled.  "I just want my life back."

"We're each other's best chance, Meecha, but only if you're willing.  I won't force you, or coerce you.  If you don't want my help, I'll forget I ever saw you.  Minister Stoddard can vouch for the truth of that statement.  If that is your choice, my advice is to destroy everything you have here, and get out of Cascade Province."

Meecha's eyes flicked from one face to the next. "Tell me what I have to do."

&&&&&

Blair realized he had a lot to learn about how James Ellison and his fellow Security Investigators actually did their work.

For one thing, they didn't talk to each other a lot. A few glances and everyone seemed to know what to do next without a lot of discussion.  Well, everyone except Blair seemed to have a clue. Sometimes Jim had time to explain, and sometimes Blair just had to deduce and play along.

The beacon had done its work, which was good. Blair had naively assumed that there would be some "open sesame" moment.  Apparently it was a little more complicated than that, which was bad.  The beacon he and Jim had positioned in the slot canyon gave a position, but didn't reveal an entrance. In the interests of stealth and speed apparently some extraordinary assets were being called into play. Jim seemed particularly reluctant to share that information, so Blair shut his mouth and tried to think of how to be useful.  Everyone involved was painfully aware that Naomi Sandburg would ultimately cut Blair's participation and by extension, Jim's, short.  By unspoken agreement, they wanted Ventriss in hand before either man left.

Rafe and Brown were dispatched to ferry the Security Services transports to their current position.  Taggert conducted an extended conversation with Banks and someone named Sanchez, apparently involving Provincial Justice.  Blair quickly lost track of the conversation and the convoluted debate involving evidence and Citizen vs. Council of Lords Justice, not that he would have understood all the nuances had he sat at Taggert's feet and taken good notes.

Instead, Blair found himself scrambling over the rough terrain on Jim's heels, trying to conduct an impromptu tutorial in sentinel senses for beginners.  What Jim lacked in finesse he made up for in determination, even if it had him on the edge of sensory spikes and overload.

"Come on, Sandburg!  These damn senses have to be worth something other than complicating my life."

"Jim, will you slow down a second?" Blair said, breathlessly scrambling over another fallen sapling. His chest was heaving, and his legs were burning from exertion.  "Let's think about this for a second."

"What's to think?" Jim said sharply. "There's got to be a land-based controller and an entrance.  A smuggling dock isn't any use if you can't transition from transport to the ground crew.  It's here somewhere, and I need it now."

Blair sank wearily onto the sapling, allowing it to bounce gently under its weight.  Jim's urgency brought with it an upwelling of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm his control. His chest ached, and he couldn't catch his breath.  His head drooped, and he caught himself with hands braced on his own knees.  Tears pricked at his eyes as thoughts of Naomi, trying to struggle back one last time, flooded him with emotion.  "Give me a minute, Jim.  Please," he managed to whisper.

The tone caught Jim's attention.  His head snapped around abruptly as he realized what was happening. He stepped close, placing his hands across the narrow shoulders of the seated man.  The spare flesh reminded him how much Sandburg had overcome to be here.  How could he have forgotten the infection and fever that Blair was still battling? Or the days of unrelenting pressure, and now his mother near death.  How much could he reasonably expect? 

"I'm sorry, Chief.  I was being an idiot."  Strong hands kneaded the tight muscles along shoulder and neck.

Blair leaned slightly into his legs. "Sorry.  Everything just caught up with me."

"It'll keep.  Steven's on his way.  As Ellison Seneschal, he may be able to open the damn thing for us.  I was just trying to find it first."

"To spare him?" Blair asked softly, looking up into his sentinel's face.

"Yeah," Jim said, shaking his head. "After all these years, all the suspicions and grudges, he's gone to the mat for me. Probably lost his inheritance, knowing my father's vindictive soul.  Even though he agreed the moment I asked, if I could do it without him - "

"It would be one less thing," Blair said with a sigh.  "Your father is a difficult man to oppose.  I understand."

Jim shoved an errant curl out of Blair's eyes with a snort. "Understatement of the decade. That's no reason to push you so hard."  His eyes lifted to the horizon.  "Incoming."

"Time for me to act like a guide. Use me as an anchor, Jim. Stretch out your vision. Don't try to do it all at once."

It took a moment.  "Steven," Jim said, a bit of awe entering his voice.  He smiled at his partner, unable to articulate what he was finally realizing - that Blair could open the door to untold possibilities. "I'd recognize those transport lines anywhere.  Our detention team is right behind, coming in from the east."

Blair pushed off his temporary seat. "Sorry I couldn't help you find it, Jim.  I'll do better."

"No, I will.  Last I checked, the idea was to work as a team."  He wrapped an arm around Sandburg's shoulders. "I'm the weak sister in this partnership.  I'm just sort of realizing what we can do together."

Blair's answering grin was brilliant. "That's - well, that's great." He squinted at the skyline, unsuccessfully as it turned out.  "I knew you talked to Steven, but I didn't realize he was coming."

"He insisted," Jim said. "He kind of hinted he had something really important to show me, although I can't imagine what." He shrugged.  "I'll owe Stevie another one and try to make it up to him - and to you, Chief.  I owe you more than anyone."

Blair swallowed back a rush of emotion and relaxed, leaning against Jim's bulk, watching intently, waiting for Steven's transport to come into his visual range.

&&&&&

A soft ping chimed through the darkened transport. It seemed to echo and vibrate far beyond its natural volume.  Thirty seconds later, the sound pulsed again.  Ventriss Seneschal Gresham Knowleton closed his eyes as if in pain.

They had been found.  Any thoughts of a solo escape were probably now gone. In fact, escape of any kind was a delusion.

A third ping, and Lord Norman shifted restlessly. "What is that?" he hissed.

Knowleton kept his voice at a whisper, even though it probably made no difference to the outcome.  "A passive monitor, Lord Ventriss.  Someone has mounted a locator beacon."

"We're shielded, you fool.  We're safe."  Lord Norman started to rise from the floor, where Knowleton had placed him in the vain hope of evading detection.  Knowleton firmly pressed the man back to the floor.

"We're shielded from above.  Some adventurous soul may have searched from below, using the slot cave."  He cursed inwardly. The slot was a vulnerability. If you knew the cave well enough, the transport dock could be accessed on foot, from below. Although he'd argued against it, Lord Ventriss had chosen to ignore that vulnerability in favor of utilizing the underground slot cave for his smuggling partners. That decision was now their downfall.

"Well, do something, Knowleton," snarled Ventriss. "I pay you to take care of these things."

Knowleton bit back the retort that nearly bubbled out. _What do you want me to do, you old viper?  Teleport you to some beach in the tropics, with all your perverted pleasures?_ He rose slowly, balancing on the balls of his feet. "Wait here, Lord Ventriss. There is still a chance we can evade detection.  Maintain silence, and I will go forward."

Moving with near silence, Knowleton entered the navigation suite.  Unbeknownst to Ventriss, he'd installed an array of passive sensors.  Accessing a little power probably wouldn't make a difference at this point.  Adjusting the viewer, he saw the outlines of multiple figures and transports.  He studied the lines of the vessels carefully. The closest - he would swear that was Steven Ellison's highly specialized personal transport. The Ellison card again. How had he missed their involvement so completely?

He turned his attention to the other vehicles and his heart sank.

&&&&&

Lord Akiyama slid into the pilot's seat, now recently vacated by Steven Ellison.  The forward view screen provided a clear view as events transpired.  "So Lord William confronts the eldest son, and we are the audience. Quite an accomplishment, first daughter of my House."  He grasped Kimiko's hand, and watched the action intently.  "The Head of House Ellison was a bit vague. Enlighten me, daughter, in as much as your conscience allows."

Kimiko's lips curled in a half-smile as the Ellison brothers embraced in greeting.  "Steven told me what has been immediately necessary.  Between the brothers, a tangled relationship, but Steven loves his brother.  The original split I can only guess at, although I know it involved James' original consort, Carolyn Plummer."

"Ah." Kaoro said.  "After James withdrew himself, it is easy to overlook the previous relationship.  Lord William's recent actions have different implications through that lens. Lady Carolyn was well on the way to usurping the line of succession until Lord William brought Philip to the fore."  He gazed out the window.  "Lord William is shrewd and capable of operating on many levels.  One could speculate on what has transpired between Lady Carolyn and the Head of House Ellison before he abandoned her.  She was openly petitioning him to support her as next Head of House."  He glanced speculatively at Kimiko.  "Interesting, considering the current turn of events."

"According to Steven, Lord William has always believed his eldest would return to the fold.  A gross error, apparently.  Until Steven took the initiative, there's been no contact for years."

"And certainly there is more," Kaoro stated expectantly.  "Something more recent, for example."

Kimiko stared at her fingertips, thinking back to the hurried com from Steven, telling her he was going after his long-estranged brother, outraged at his father's duplicity.  That his brother was a newly revealed sentinel, and Lord William had overstepped his bounds.  Steven had been adamant. A father's prerogatives did not extend to overruling a sentinel's choice of guide, that his long lost brother deserved better. "Father, you have an amazing talent for understatement."

The few moments of silence between conveyed more than her words.  "Difficult to choose between a brother and a father, particularly in Steven's position." Lord Kaoro stated mildly. He would allow his daughter this evasion in the name of courtesy.  Inwardly, he shuddered at the thought that any of his children would so openly challenge his authority.

"You may feel differently, Father, but I believe Steven's decision was honorable and correct.  He accepts his Lord's decisions but follows his heart without bitterness."

They watched in silence.  The conversation between Steven and James expanded to include their father.  Lord William stood apart from his two sons, exuding an air of rigid formality. Kaoro noted the total lack of open affection.  Lord William was a powerful man, but to fail to show love to those of your own blood? To jeopardize your House over the inevitable friction that came from the next generation asserting itself? A profound weakness in an otherwise highly capable man. 

A shorter figure stepped forward uncertainly, pausing at the side of the elder son, a hand resting on the back of the elder Ellison brother. Even at a distance, the air fairly crackled with tension.  "Ah, and this must be the guide," Kaoro asked.

Kimiko nodded.  "Yes.  Blair Sandburg. A complicated story becomes even more complex.  Remember Lady Elizabeth Ventriss?"

Kaoro's dark eyes flickered.  "Were the rumors true?"

"That Lord Norman arranged his consort's death? Apparently so. Sandburg's mother was Lady Elizabeth's companion.  Lord Norman has held her hostage to ensure the guide's cooperation." Her tone darkened. "He compelled Guide Sandburg to attend Alicia." 

Lord Kaoro actually gaped as his head snapped in Kimiko's direction.  "What? That creature? I wouldn't consign a bonsai from my garden to that nightmare female.  Lord Norman should have secluded her in childhood."  His attention moved back to the scene playing out before them. Harsh words were being delivered on both sides.  "Is this the guide who did violence?"

"Yes, Father.  In self-defense.  Another part of the story.  When Alicia was found at fault, Lord Ventriss apparently manipulated the process, keeping him marginalized.  He's been off grid, barely surviving."

"Keeping the mother as surety. By the ancestors. How long?"

"Years," Kimiko said, anger coloring her cheeks. "Steven uncovered a shocking record of perversion, up to and including torture."

"No wonder Lord William broke the House in such haste."

Kimiko snorted.  "He's been busy.  When James was at the Sentinel Treatment Center, Lord William acted on those rumors. Instead of recognizing a victim, he saw only an unsuitable partner for his son.  He separated James from his chosen guide, banished him while James was still ill and brought in other candidates.  Steven was appalled."

Kaoro considered his daughter's revelation. So many motivations and entanglements. "And so your betrothed followed his conscience.  A bold move, but I agree, an honorable one.  So now we have two of the Founding Fifty in a noose of their own making, and this guide brought it all to a head."  Kaoro leaned forward, watching the action intently.

Lord William was speaking directly to the guide, who appeared to withstand the encounter with calm and dignity.  Interesting.  Kaoro looked sidewise at his daughter.  "What I wouldn't give for sentinel hearing right now."

Kimiko gave a delicate sniff.  "You with sentinel senses?  A terrifying thought.  I never got away with anything as it was."

Kaoro turned his attention back to the members of House Ellison.  "So we have all the pieces which bring the great Lord Ellison to our door.  House Plummer shattered and indebted for a generation, House Ventriss broken and a prize for the taking."

"And Lord Ellison, trying to decide where the future of his house lies."  Kimiko leaned toward her father, resting her head on his shoulder.  "I love Steven, Father, whether he inherits the wealth of House Ellison or not.  Have I done wrong, Father?  Lord William is a double edged sword.  Have I brought disaster to our door?"

Kaoro squeezed his daughter's hand. "Steven will be an asset to our House, with or without his father.  Your betrothal will be honored with joy."  _And now I know how badly Lord William needs us. The sword will be wielded in my hands, to our advantage._

&&&&&

Megan Connor's leg ached as she stepped from the transport. She sighed in frustration, and then shrugged.  Being shed of the plastocast was worth a little discomfort.  She stepped aside to allow Minister Stoddard and Meecha Foster to join her. Stoddard carried a case, sealed with elaborate closures marked with his thumbcypher.

"Prosecutor Sanchez is waiting," Connor said. With her fingertips, she pressed a Security Services identifier to Meecha's left shoulder.   She could feel the young woman trembling beneath her hand. Rightly or wrongly, most citizens regarded a trip to Security Services headquarters with abject terror. "Try to relax. No one will challenge you while you are wearing that.  It indicates you are under the protection of Major Incident.  Even the Provincial Governor's office would have to seek permission from Captain Banks or Captain Taggert to even speak with you."

"My son?"

"Inside, and very safe.  Security Services has a wonderful Child Center. He is happily playing with the other children his own age.  As soon as we're finished you'll join him.  Just follow me."

The trio breezed though the entry area, skipped the scanning normally required of non-Security Services personnel. Meecha Foster was outwardly calm, but it didn't take a sentinel to know she was barely keeping her terror under control.  Minister Stoddard looked about to burst with anticipation.  Connor understood.  In Stoddard's eyes, Marie Edwards had sullied a sacred institution.  Her downfall would be the first steps toward restoring the institution he loved.

Connor escorted them to the Provincial Law and Justice area, the sweeping curves of the access lift opened to a magnificent view of Cascade.  The city glistened as rain and sun reflected off every dampened surface.  They stepped off immediately in front of a waiting Beverly Sanchez, who greeted Stoddard with open warmth and was gently reassuring to Foster. "Specialist Foster, you are most welcome.  Please follow me."

Connor's relationship with Sanchez during the Sandburg - Ventriss - Edwards investigation had been fraught with confrontations. Connor thought Sanchez overly political and timid, Sanchez found S.I. Connor driven to the point of recklessness. Watching Sanchez with Meecha Foster, carefully directing the interview through the labyrinth, Connor revised her professional opinion.  In this setting, Sanchez was superb.  She earned Meecha's trust, and piece after piece of critical evidence dropped like ripe plums. Connor found herself busy with Stoddard, organizing and collating the vids Meecha had brought to support her testimony.

At Stoddard's request, tea arrived, followed by sweets, followed by sandwiches on freshly baked bread that brought a wide stare to Meecha's eyes.  Connor suppressed a grin at Sanchez' technique.  Foodstuffs from a Level One Plus Commissary never failed to impress a citizen of average means.  Time slipped by, and still the evidence produced was stunning in its breadth and quality.

Finally, Sanchez paused.  "Specialist Foster, you are to be commended." Sanchez waved to one of her assistants, who stepped forward with a metal capsule that opened at the Prosecutor's touch.  Sanchez lifted out a bracelet of linked golden discs.  Connor drew a quick breath, knowing the significance of what was about to happen.

"Your hand, please," Sanchez said softly.

Frowning in confusion, Foster tentatively held out her left hand. 

"Specialist Meecha Foster, on behalf of Provincial Law and Justice  of Cascade Province, you are now a registered Provincial Witness, under the full protection and support of the Province."  Sanchez touched the ends of the bracelet together, waiting for them to seal. "Please accept our thanks. You have fulfilled the highest calling of a Citizen of Cascade."

Meecha looked stunned.  Connor wanted to shout for joy.  By declaring Foster a Protected Citizen, Sanchez placed Meecha Foster beyond retaliation and pressure.  Foster's testimony against Edwards was virtually guaranteed.

Sanchez tapped a code, which summoned two Provincial Justice Admins.  "Specialist Foster, my assistants will conduct you to your child, and from there to housing provided by the Province.  Your protection and comfort is now our highest priority.  We will arrange for the retrieval of your personal effects before the day is out." 

Sanchez waited until Foster was escorted away and the room was cleared except for herself, Minister Stoddard and Connor. "Well, S.I. Connor, you've set a new mark for 'uncovering new evidence'.  Give me a little warning next time.  I'll have every documentation specialist working far into the night."

"As you say, Prosecutor Sanchez," Connor replied, not hiding her grin.

"I hope you're not too worn out from your efforts. The detention order is on its way. We do have a multitude of choices, do we not?"  Sanchez said, viewing the array of catalogued evidence.  "I'll have to give it some thought."

Connor held her breath.  She'd expected an argument, more interminable political wrangling.

"Thought's over.  S.I. Connor, meet the detention team and bring Marie Edwards in forthwith to enjoy our hospitality."

&&&&&

Bradley Ventriss shoved the palm-sized vid reader across the table and slammed his fist flat down.  The polished surface shuddered under the blow. After nearly an hour, he couldn't listen to another syllable.  "I have heritage in this Province!  My family's House in of the Founding Fifty!  I demand you recognize my status!  End this - this charade!"

The two Provincial Law and Justice advocates flinched in unison. Bradley had never spent a great deal of time learning Provincial flashings, but they were both young and obviously very junior in their positions. That alone was an insult. An heir-elect of a prominent House was due better.  How dare they not at least provide a senior officer from Provincial Law and Justice, even if they had no rightful authority to judge him.

The male advocate shrugged and looked away. The female sighed deeply, shook her head in what seemed to be pity, and finally spoke.  "Citizen Ventriss, it is regrettable that you continue to deny information we have already provided to you.  Even in detention, every citizen has rights. I assure you, Cascade Province is not without compassion.  You will have assistance during transition."  She pushed the reader his direction again.  "Please consider the terms you are being offered."

Her studied calm infuriated him.  Bradley screamed in rage, slapped the reader so it sailed across the room and shattered against the wall.  He lunged toward the woman, only to be snapped back by the detention restraints built into the interview pod seating.  The elastic material tightened as he flailed, forcing him back into his seat.

"That's enough!"

The voice came from behind him.  Bradley twisted as much as he was able - once activated the chair restraints could only be released by an officer outside the interview pod. The voice sounded somehow familiar, but his best efforts produced a narrow view of gleaming black boots and a tailored gray uniform.

"Advocates, you efforts are appreciated, but this has gone on long enough.  Leave us."

The male advocate shoved back with a sneer. "No argument from this end, Captain.  You're welcome to him, with my sympathies."  The woman moved to follow, and a sliver of a smile on her face appeared as she stood. Her eyes were focused behind Bradley on the newcomer, and she shook her head again.  "You really should have taken what we were offering."

Bradley leaned against the lacings and delivered a colorful condemnation of her parentage.  She left with an amused shrug.  Left alone, he turned his attention to Captain Who-ever-he-was. Another tirade died a silent death before leaving his tongue as the man moved into clearer view and recognition dawned.  Captain Adrian Costello.  Second in command to the Commandant of Council of Lords Security.  A man even the most powerful treated with respect. According to the spectacularly absent Lord Norman Ventriss, Captain Costello was the favored choice of the Council when internal discipline was required, and the chosen errand boy of none other than Lord Ellison.

Bradley inwardly cringed.  To meet this man, trussed up like a common criminal. He placed his hands flat on the table surface before him, aiming for expectant confidence and calm. It was a stretch. His heart hammered in his chest. "I assume you're here to resolve this issue, Captain.  I've had quite enough of this ridiculous detention.  Surely you can bring these Provincial underlings to heel."

Costello showed no outward reaction. With deliberate care, he selected a chair and seated himself.  "The Council of Lords was indeed contacted by Provincial Law and Justice."

"Well, it's about time," Bradley said. He jerked against the restraints. "Why don't you quit lounging, do something productive and get me out of these things?"

Costello produced a velvet-wrapped, oblong object. Bradley's mind went blank, unwilling to acknowledge what he was seeing. 

"The Council is quite distressed with your behavior, Bradley Ventriss."

No title.  No tone of deference.  Bradley found it suddenly hard to breathe.

"I am here to ensure there are no further misunderstandings."  Costello placed the oblong between them and peeled away the velvet with a sure hand. The red and gold seals on the enclosed parchment lay in shattered bits on the fabric when it was unfolded.

Bradley stopped breathing completely. _No.  It couldn't be._ He forced himself to speak.  "If this is an official action, my consent is required.  There's no member of the Council to request or receive it." Costello neither answered, nor gave any indication he'd heard the protest.  He continued to spread the parchment, carefully weighting each corner. "Answer me, Captain! House Ventriss assets may be frozen, but I am heir-elect of House Ventriss and due your respect! How dare you ignore me!"

Costello's eyes glittered with contempt. "This has nothing to do with your funds, young man."  He straightened and stood at attention, looking down from what seemed a great height. "Bradley Ernest Augustus Ventriss, by order of the Council of Lords, under the direction of Presiding Officer Lord Martin Harcourt, House Ventriss has been broken. The line of Ventriss is at end." He touched the section of parchment where names and signatures were recorded for significant actions - births, deaths, elevations, selection of a consort.  The five signatures of the Council were notated, each with a black seal. The emblem of House Ventriss; dolphin, burning vessel, and galloping horse, was defaced with a crosshatching of black.

Bradley wanted to scream, but couldn't. His breath came in short, labored pants. He shook his head frantically in denial.

Costello leaned towards him, pushing a stylus across the table to rest by Bradley's hand.  In the gray and black uniform, he was a towering presence.  Bradley shrank away, trapped in the chair restraints. "Listen carefully. You will now be known as Citizen Bradley.  At the convenience of Cascade Province, you will be assigned a new surname, preliminary housing and employment.  You will be designated Level Four until your efforts and talent indicate you are worthy of better. Any proceedings of Provincial Law and Justice are of no concern to the Council of Lords, or any House in Cascade. Do you understand these directives?"

Anger finally overrode Bradley's panic. "No.  No, I do not understand.  I have a birthright!"

"The moment the council affixed their seals, your birthright ceased to exist," Costello said in icy tones. He began to roll the parchment. "You have no House. You have no Family. You have nothing, and you are no one. I suggest you reacquaint yourself with the rights and responsibilities of a Citizen of Cascade. If you're not careful, you'll lose those as well."

The words crashed down like boulders. "But - my personal possessions, my credit accounts -"

"Will be dealt with - sold, reassigned or destroyed. The proceeds will be dispensed by the Council to the line which will be elevated to assume the role of your former family.  The Council of Lords has issued a Directive of Abandonment concerning your person."

Bradley moaned in horror.  Abandonment.  Any member of a House would risk their own standing if they so much as spoke his name, or gave him a cup of water to drink. 

"Sign.  It is the final duty to your family."

"No."

Costello's eyes were cold.  "You are being afforded this one last opportunity to act with honor, to indicate that you accepted the directive of your pledged authority.  If you hope to receive any future consideration from the Council of Lords, this will go into the Archives with your signature on it."

Bradley stared at the stylus.  In the end, it was always about submission to authority. He was out of options. With a shaking hand, he added his own name below the defaced House Ventriss emblem and the five signatures.

Costello folded the velvet, encasing the red and gold seal fragments in its folds.  He smoothed it carefully before Bradley.  "Your advocates will return shortly.  I suggest you reconsider where your best interests lie." With great formality, he placed the parchment in a transport case and brushed his hands across his uniform, as if to wipe away a contagion.  "I've seen the charges that Provincial law and Justice will be bringing against you. The Council has pledged their cooperation with your prosecution.  Get used to detention, Citizen Bradley of House Nothing."

&&&&&

The morning breeze had picked up and shifted direction. Blair shivered, and thrust his hands deeper into the lined pockets of his borrowed outerwear. The temperature was brisk, but the chill he felt was due to the scene playing out before him. The three members of House Ellison wielded words more like weapons than vehicles of conversation. What would it have been like to grow up in a household dominated by such a fierce personality as Lord William?  How had the Ellison brothers ever emerged with any sense of person at all?

Blair was grateful to be an unnoticed observer.

A brisk gust tore a tendril of long hair across his eyes. Distracted, he was shoving it back under his headgear when Blair realized the focus of conversation had shifted his direction.  He looked up into the three sets of eyes.  The sensation was rather like gazing back into a weapon sight.  Blair realized he'd missed something important and stepped forward to stand at his sentinel's side.  No more anonymity.  They had his full attention.  "Yes, Lord Ellison."

"I'll repeat myself," Lord William said. "Is my son safe? Is he well?  Now answer me!  Are you the guide in charge of him or not?"

Blair felt Jim press slightly against his side, a wordless but strong reassurance.  "Lord Ellison, your son is perfectly capable of answering for himself. I believe you have a misconception of what sentinel status entails.  A guide is a partner.  I do not dominate him, I am not in charge of him, and I do not speak for him.  He is still your son, in all things."

"And I want an answer, not a lecture."

A tart reply, but Blair, like every guide, was a student of body language.  Something about his response had unsettled the elder Ellison.  He couldn't imagine what.  He glanced at Jim.  The bland formality Jim had adopted with his father dissolved into a slight smile and a nod. Blair could almost hear Jim's voice in his ear. _Pin his ears back, Chief. Go for it._

 _Well, fine.  He could do this.  A report was a report, regardless of the recipient._   Blair looked steadily at the man who'd done everything possible to replace him. Under the air of superiority and command, perhaps there was just a man who cared for his son, however awkwardly. Really, was Lord William any more intimidating that the towering, bellowing Captain Banks? "Lord Ellison, your son is progressing with basic sensory control.  I would say that he has regained any ground lost following the O.A.V. incident. Provincial Sentinel Commandant Winter and Security Services Sentinel Captain Chambers have both evaluated his progress and approved his return to duty, with some temporary modifications."

"Our return to duty," Jim added firmly.

Blair accepted the interruption as the endorsement it was and continued.  "Any sentinel would envy his performance this morning.  Processing sensory input in an underground environment is inherently difficult. Jim did it with the added complication of a river and a challenging search task.  He learns and adapts quickly.  I see no signs of undue sensory stress."  _Except for you, of course.  You're a stress category unto yourself._

"Exactly what I expected." Lord William stayed on the attack. "James is an Ellison. Excellence is in his nature. Why are you anything but a drag on his coattails, using his standing and ability to validate your lack? What would he accomplish with a real guide?"

Jim was already moving.  Blair stepped neatly in front, creating a barrier between father and son.  If he was going to lose his temper with one of the power brokers of the Province, and he was, he didn't need Jim's participation.   "Lord Ellison, the question itself is an insult to both of us.  Enough."  He took a pace forward, closing the distance between himself and Lord William. Blair yearned to just haul off and slug him, but words would have to do.  "You want someone with a better pedigree, better family and a higher credit balance? Well, life is full of these little disappointments.  Jim chose me, and I chose him.  The work I - we - do is all the endorsement I need.  You'll just have to live with it.  Or not."

"Family!" Lord William scoffed. "You can't even aspire to a family."

"My mother is more family than you ever dreamed of," Blair snarled, throwing all semblance of propriety to the wind. "After all she's suffered from arrogant bastards like you, you don't even deserve to mention her name."

"Here, here."

All eyes swiveled toward the new, unexpected voice. Taggert, who, now that Blair noticed, could cut a fairly imposing countenance himself. Now where had he come from? The Captain was standing with his arms crossed in disgust, flanked by Brown and Rafe, obviously just returned from fetching the transport and other equipment.  "Lord Ellison, I sent this man into a pitched battle to rescue a sentinel he didn't even know.  No training, no contract.  It was a damn suicide mission.  Can you imagine the courage and dedication that takes?  He got Jim out alive and kept him alive after Kincaid nearly killed him. Ask the experts about his level of expertise.  What else could Guide Sandburg possibly do to prove himself to you?"

Lord William seemed taken aback, either by the statement, the tone, the speaker or all three.  Taggert allowed a few moments of silence and pressed on.  "Now, we need this damn transport bay open.  If you're going to help us, do it.  If not, get back in your fancy ride and get out of the way. And before you ask, I'm Captain Taggert, and if you want my credentials cypher, you can have it."

 Blair stared in stunned silence, which oddly enough, seemed to match the response from Lord Ellison.  Steven looked a slightly shocked and a little amused. Jim ducked his head, apparently to keep from laughing out loud.   He nudged Steven and pulled Blair back towards his chest protectively. "Congratulations, Father. You just got reamed by one of the most respected commanders in the Security Services.  Happens only once or twice a year, because he's a pretty calm kind of a guy.  Do you have an encore planned?"

Lord William just shook his head with a frosty expression Blair realized he'd seen in both sons.  "Not at the moment.  How sad you find such an absence of protocol and deference amusing. Fine.  I assume you have an electroshielding specialist."

"That would be me, for now," Taggert said, matching his tone. "Assuming social niceties aren't a prerequisite for actual work."  Lord and Captain exchanged a gaze so intense the rest of the party could only look away.

"I've checked the Council Archives for references," Lord William said.  His even tone seemed to declare a temporary truce.  "This site was first used as an emergency shelter during the Food Mutiny. The underground features were more commonly known before the influenza depopulation.  There were notations of modification made for small scale ground transport about a century ago, again for emergency use. After that time it was formally transferred to the Founding Fifty and the site retired and access limited to official survey activity.  Any recent modification was done illicitly by the now-former Lord Ventriss. I suggest we start with the lower level codes currently in use by the Houses and try some basic iterations." He held out a data card towards Taggert.

"If you'll follow me, Lord Ellison," Taggert said, still speaking as he moved toward the Security Services cache of equipment. "Do you really think he'd use something so elementary?"

"I believe so, Captain," Lord William said as he followed, leaving the others in a small knot behind them. "The man excelled in depravity and excess, not strategy.  An exceedingly dim light, as it were."  He stopped and turned.  "And James?"

"Yes, Father?"

"The Archives indicate that the original access was made on foot, tucked in under the lower falls.  Something about a grotto.  I found no notation that it was ever closed."  With that, he turned his attention to Taggert, discussing certain landmarks that might be helpful.

"A way in is a way out," Steven said grimly. "By the ancestors, we can't lose him now."

&&&&&

"The detention team is waiting for us outside something called the - the -." Connor's voice faded off as she tried to confirm the actual rendezvous point.

"Megan, my dear, we need the Citizen's Hall, which is that direction,"  Eli Stoddard said, gesturing toward the opposite side of the Rainier University campus. "Allow an old man a useful function, and I'll direct you."

Connor had to smile.  The former minister was determined to see his nemesis brought to heel, no matter the obstacles.  "You're completely shameless, Minister Stoddard.  Chancellor Edwards probably has sensors set for you at the boundary of the campus."  She fell into step beside the older man.  Prosecutor Sanchez had approved his presence during the actual detention. Connor had not voiced her reservations. Despite his willingness to assist Major Incident and bring Edwards to face justice, she could see the stress and activity was taking its toll on the older man.  "Minister Stoddard, mind telling me how you knew where the Chancellor would be this morning?"

Stoddard's eyes twinkled wickedly. "I have excellent sources, young woman, but in this case my informant is Elizabeth Okalu, my successor in the Provincial Guide and Sentinel Programs.  Elizabeth is as appalled with the Chancellor's activities as I ever was.  Edwards is addressing a gathering of very senior University officials.  The Citizen's Hall is rather too large and grand for such a gathering, but Edwards never misses a chance to play the _grande dame_. If my estimates are correct, we should arrive about the time she mounts the speaker's dais."

"So that's why you insisted on coming along, you old schemer.  You wanted to watch the entertainment."

"Age allows few pleasures, S.I. Connor. I shall be discreet, I promise you, but I'll relish every minute of a public detention.  Don't be surprised if the room breaks out in cheers."

"I'll be grateful if she comes quietly. I don't want to waste a new, perfectly fitted uniform on some tantrum from that woman."  Connor paused as the building and the waiting detention team came into view.  "On the other hand, in light of what she's done, dragging her out by the hair would be kind of fun."

She turned her concentration to the waiting team, all personally selected by Prosecutor Sanchez for their experience and calm. The team leader performed the customary courtesies for Stoddard, who, although retired, was still well-known and respected.  "S.I. Connor, we have been briefed.  Prosecutor Sanchez has authorized a Level Three Detention if needed."

"Physical restraint including the use of stun pods?" Connor asked.

"Yes, S.I. Connor.  Based on Chancellor Edwards' profile and the serious nature of the charges, I recommend we send three team members to secure possible exits. I have also sent teams to secure her office and residence when the detention order is served."

"Very good," Megan said briskly. "Minister Stoddard, you know the facility.  Any recommendations?"

"As a matter of fact, yes.  There is a antechamber directly behind the speaker's dais. It is equipped with a rapid-access system to the Administration Hall.  The availability is not common knowledge."

"Access?" Megan asked, realizing the implications immediately.  The detention team should use the main entrance, but she was in no mood to pursue Edwards. A repeat of the Norman Ventriss escape they did not need.  "Is it possible to deploy from the Administration Hall?" Connor asked.

"My thoughts exactly," Stoddard said. "Let us position an additional spider in the web."

&&&&&

"Be careful of your step, Mama. The next section is steep and usually wet.  After that, the rise is gradual for nearly a mile."

Willa Gentry extended her hand to her elder son. Spray from the churning water had already soaked her clothing, and the temperature had dropped. She was shivering and clumsy, the passage made more difficult by the dark.  The lumobeams were set to the lowest possible setting to conserve power. Maybe it was fine for young eyes, but she kept losing her feet in the darkness.  Their progress was slow, step by careful step. Lynch paused a moment to show her the next concealment strategy, crude but totally effective.

"How did you ever find this?" Willa asked, sliding behind the concealing boulder and dodging the rocky overhang with the help of her boy.

"It just made sense.  I had men crawling through these rocks for days, looking for a way in.  The surface doors were Lord Norman's little project.  When we picked up cargo it was obvious, at least if you paid attention, that a natural feature had been enlarged, and the original site was old, not recent. It was just  a matter of searching."

"Does he know you know?" Willa asked.

Lynch shrugged with a grin.  "Even if he did, he wouldn't consider it important. Ventriss is a typical aristo. He assumes anyone from the Boundary is mentally deficient."  Lynch thought for a moment.  "His Seneschal Knowleton may know.  He's smart. He knows how to massage the higher ups, but he doesn't really buy it."

"Is he a threat?"  Willa worked to keep her voice and breathing steady. If Lynch knew how tired she was, he'd worry about her first.  She felt a deep sense of urgency.  Stopping or turning back wasn't an option.

"Potentially.  Knowleton is ex-military, and basically an honorable man. Ventriss disgusts him. I suspect he accepted the position of Seneschal honestly, without knowing all the implications. Once you're in, it's hard to get out. Those transports we saw weren't here by accident.  I think the noose is closing.  Knowleton's loyalty and sense of honor will only go so far.  He might be more interested in a deal than protecting a doomed employer he despises.  Falco, stop here."

The lead man complied, held the light high and increased the power.  Willa shuddered when she realized how far the path had led them above the grotto floor. A fall would break a bone, or worse. Lynch guided her to a relatively flat, broad expanse of rocky path and seated her on an outcrop. "There's a section coming that's steep.  Near the top, there are a few handholds, the remains of a ladder that I think dates back to the Food Riots. Scary and difficult. Mama, we can let you wait here."

Willa shook her head.

Lynch knelt beside her.  "We can at least rest a moment longer." Then he froze, as did their two men.

In the distance ahead, they could hear the sound of footfalls.  Running footfalls. Without a word, Lynch drew his discharge weapon.

&&&&&

Henri Brown had a fine pilot rating, and Jim swallowed his impulse to demand more speed.  For the moment, he needed to concentrate on his guide.

By the ancestors, when was he going to get a brain, or figure this sentinel thing out?  He'd been ready to take the transport flight controls when he'd spared a glance for Sandburg.  One look at the pale skin and beads of sweat along the brow was enough to change his mind and turn the responsibility over to Brown.  Jim abandoned the flight controls entirely and ushered Sandburg firmly into the secondary passenger compartment. 

Security Services transports were equipped to handle casualties.  Although his training tended toward the treatment of injury rather than disease, Jim instantly took advantage. He settled Blair in one of the flight seats with medical capabilities.  "Easy, Chief. Down some of this." Jim was knelt in front of his seated guide, plastotube of nutrient gel in his hand.  He didn't bother with the monitoring cuffs when he realized that he already had a good idea of Sandburg's heart rate. He laid a hand on Blair's chest, gently pressing to ease the flight seat into a partial recline. That touch was enough for him to feel each rasping breath, and the rising heat of fever.

"I'm fine."  Blair tried to escape.  "Really."

Jim pressed him back.  "No you're not, but I give you credit for trying. Stay put. I mean it.  Brown can handle the transport."

"We can't let him get away," Blair whispered. "Not now."

Jim was already into the medikit.  Fever wasn't common, but the treatment films for burns would work as well.   He wiped Blair's face with sure, gentle strokes.  "Not going to happen.  Calm down and catch your breath.  Even if Ventriss clears those falls, he's on foot and probably alone.  He's used to luxury, not hiding out in the backcountry. He won't get far." Jim touched the back of his hand to Sandburg's cheek, confirming what he already knew.  "Your fever's back.  This has been too much.  I should have never dragged you out here.  Your mother -"

"If Naomi could, she would have sent me. She'd put this - keeping Lord Norman from hurting anyone else - before anything."  Sandburg took a long draw on the plastotube and choked down the thick contents.

"I should have paid attention," Jim said. "I was an idiot. All that climbing over rough ground was too much.  Sonya Kim is going to skin me alive."

"Sonya Kim will get over it.  I'm not going to let you out of my sight, and I'm not going to slow you down, either.  I promise." Blair choked on another mouthful. "This stuff is awful. I thought you guys got the good stuff."

"That is the good stuff.  Useful isn't always the same as desirable, even for Security Services."  Jim swapped out the nutrients for water.  "Wash that crap down and get rid of the taste."  Blair's color looked marginally better.  "How do you feel?"

"Better.  Tired, but better."

 _Yeah, right.  Let's pretend you aren't still burning up_.  "Lean back and close your eyes, and see if you can manage deeper breaths instead of little pants.  Don't even think about arguing with me."

Blair nodded and sank back into the flight restraints. Jim kept a hand wrapped around his wrist, and tried to ignore the occasional stutter in the heartbeat that he could feel beneath his partner's skin.

&&&&&

"So you were the one who sought out Guide Sandburg? During the advance on the Plummer estate?"

Taggert resisted the urge to turn and look at the man seated beside him. "I was, Lord Ellison. Shall we input the first set of codes?"

Lord William keyed in the activation signal. As he expected, Major Incident had top of the line equipment.  Captain Taggert was obviously a perceptive man.  It would be a delicate balance between opening the bay and revealing more about Council of Lords abilities and procedures than William wished.

"I don't understand in the least, Captain Taggert.  Why use the Placement Center for a guide? It's nothing but a den of discarded humanity."

"Codes processing," Taggert said. _Still classing Guide Sandburg as an undesirable.  No doubt where Jim gets his stubborn streak._ "We had an extraordinary situation that required action, speed and a minimum of exposure.  As you well know, Lord William, the operation was covert, and we wanted to keep it that way."

"I've seen the estate, Captain. Heavy weapons fire is the antithesis of covert."

Taggert didn't answer immediately.  Concentrating on the equipment was a good way to avoid a confrontation. "It began covertly, Lord Ellison, and should have stayed that way.  Other hands got involved.  A rapidly evolving operation isn't perfect."  Taggert continued to adjust and refine the scan.  "I needed to find a competent guide fast, without attracting a lot of notice and I didn't go looking during typical business hours.  Regular channels take time.  Guide Placement was the best of several non-optimal alternatives. Besides, I think you must admit, Lord William, your Council has a reputation for protecting their own. Do you deny that at least some of your fellows would have tried to assist Connal Plummer, had they known we were moving?"

William stared at him coldly.  "I would like to think that Treason Against the Province would have precluded that."

"And I would like the winter in Cascade to be one sun-filled day after another."

William stiffened.  "Interesting use of the traditional courtesies, Captain. Perhaps a refresher in protocol -"

Taggert was long past being intimidated by yet another Lord. "Perhaps you might set aside your aristo bias long enough to judge a man by his actions rather than the Index of Landed Families, or the Citizen Register.  You have to realize by now that Sandburg's societal position was manipulated by Ventriss."  Taggert paused to view the results of their first attempt.  "No hits. Your next level of coding, Lord Ellison, if you will."

William sighed and selected another series he was willing to sacrifice.  "I think we can now assume that Norman Ventriss utilized the skills of his Seneschal. Unfortunate.  Knowleton is a man of skill and intellect. We shall be put to the test, Captain."  _And if we're successful, courtesy or not, I may have to hire you out from under Security Services._

&&&&&

With Minister Stoddard safely ensconced out of sight, Connor sent the detention team in formal double file ahead of her and into the meeting chamber.  As Stoddard had predicted, Edwards had just begun her remarks.  The assembled glitterati of Rainier University were lingering over their recently concluded late brunch, listening with attention. As the team entered, every head turned their direction to watch.  Connor kept her eyes on Edwards as her opening remarks faded to silence. Her face showed annoyance, followed by outrage, and then fear.  _Yes, Chancellor, be afraid.  You know why we're here._

The detention team fanned out.  Even these elevated University officials, Senior Professors and higher, weren't above apprehension when a Provincial Justice Detention Team secured a scene. The silence was broken by the uneasy murmur of questions and speculation.  Their target wasn't revealed until Connor swept up the steps of the speaker's dais and closed on Chancellor Edwards.  The collective gasp of shock was audible.

"How dare you intrude upon this gathering," Edwards snapped.  "Please retire and I will see you at the conclusion of my remarks."

Connor couldn't repress a small smile. For all her bluster, Edwards was inching backwards.  Stoddard's hunch was right.  She was going to try for escape.  Had they not been warned, the move might have been successful. "Marie Katherine Edwards, by order of the Cascade Provincial Law and Justice, your standing as Chancellor of Rainier University has been revoked.  Your crimes against the Province are numerous and severe.  Present yourself for detention."

Connor had served Detention Orders on two continents, and the variety of response never ceased to interest her. Some detainees pleaded innocence. Some tried to brazen their way through and intimidate the arresting officer.  Some broke down in confession or tears.  A very few attempted escape, and Edwards was a member of that group. She shoved the ornate lectern in Connor's direction and bolted for the hidden antechamber and the rapid-access.

Connor neatly evaded the lectern, and it shattered at the bottom of the steps.  A shame. It was a beautiful piece. The audience reacted with cries of shock.  Stoddard's warning proved advantageous as the officer hidden in the antechamber appeared, dragging Edwards along by the elbow with a hand twisted behind her back. Edwards began to struggle and rain profanity down on the young officer, and everyone else in the vicinity.

 _Well, how convenient Sanchez issued that Level Three Detention Order._ With a flip of Connor's hand, three additional officers converged.  As Connor recited the particulars of the Detention Order, Edwards was forced to her knees.  As she continued to struggle, her hands were secured in restraint binders at her back. When the team hauled her to her feet, she pulled away, stumbling down the dais steps and lurching into the head table.  A shower of coffee, water and bright red juice drenched her fashionable suit as the table collapsed under her fall.

Connor allowed the rest of the team to deal with the chaos. She had other duties. In a clear voice, she spoke to the attendees.  "All in attendance are considered witness to a lawful detention ordered by Cascade Province. Three of our officers will remain to take your statements before you will be allowed to leave. Is this understood?" No one spoke, so Connor continued her official spiel. "Detainee Edwards has been relieved of all official duties, and all rights and privileges due her position are forfeit as of this moment.   By order of the Province, University personnel should expect further evidentiary interviews immediately.  Any attempt to conceal evidence or to evade interview will be considered a violation of Provincial statute. After your interview here, please resume your duties according to the University's designated chain of command, but remain available for additional questioning."

The team had finally extracted Edwards from the jumbled remains of the head table.  Flanked by a double row of officers, they began to escort her from the room. The former Chancellor was decidedly bedraggled.  Her graceful upswept hair hung about her face in limp strands.  One sleeve of her pale silk suit had torn, and the fabric was marred with spectacular brown and crimson stains.  Connor noticed that Edwards seemed to be hobbling, and for a moment she wondered if the woman had been injured in some way. But no, the awkward gait had an explanation.  The heel of one of her shoes had snapped off, dragging mournfully with each awkward step.

How fitting.

It was a long way to the entrance, and her halting progress was slow.  Connor fell in behind the team.  Somewhere in the room, a lone pair of hands began to clap.  In fulfillment of Stoddard's prediction, others joined.

Marie Edwards exited her soon-to-be former University with the swell of applause in her ears.

&&&&&

Philip Plummer entered his sister's home dogged by memories. Their last conversation together had taken place here.  She'd been so confident, gloating about ripping House Plummer out of Gerald's hands. Had she planned a power play all along, or had it been a spur of the moment decision, driven by their father's disastrous decisions?  Neither he nor Gerald had done anything to dissuade her plans.  Their angry protests were empty.  Carolyn had been poised to take control.  How was it that he, the youngest sibling, now wore the crest designating Head of House? 

No action on his part had precipitated his sister's fall. So how had it come to pass? Lord William was involved, of that he was certain.  His actions had been too swift, too sure for the Head of House Ellison to lack some sort of advanced knowledge.   By the ancestors, he certainly hadn't shown up at the Ellison estate with any sort of petition.

Why had Lord William sent for him and not Gerald? Maybe Steven knew what his father's machinations were about.  Sometime in the next few days perhaps he could arrange a conversation without generating any ill will with House Ellison.  He'd always been on reasonably good terms with Steven.

Those thoughts were for another day. At this moment, he needed to act upon the information from the interrogation team.

Philip accessed the compound's main control panel with Carolyn's controller code.  His fingers fumbled and it took three attempts to enter it correctly.   When the code was accepted, he linked it to his own com unit with a pang of regret.  His next actions would strip everything from his sister.  If only Carolyn had been willing to face the change in her fortunes. Instead, she'd gambled for high stakes and lost.  This was merely the final bitter act.

The detention team had left the exterior sensors on, but fearful of Carolyn's threats, had deactivated everything else. It took several minutes to reactivate the basic enviro controls and bring the lighting up to full illumination. Philip picked his was slowly into the main sitting room.  Carolyn had apparently been taken into custody in this room.  A glass, split by a long vertical crack, rested on the table. Liquid had leaked through the crack, leaving a spreading pool which had now dried, the only sign of what had gone on here.

He passed silently through the adjacent rooms to the interior courtyard and its formal garden.  The central element, Carolyn's cherished granite block, no longer displayed a perfect, polished surface.  The detention team would never have defaced such a magnificent work of art. No.  This must have occurred by Carolyn's own hand, another indication of her deteriorating control.  Philip ran a hand along the flawed surface.  The block could be sent back to the artisans, painstakingly polished and restored to glory.  How unlike his sister, now flawed beyond the possibility of repair.

Philip slid three delicate dermal imprint sheets from their carrier.  Kneeling before the block, he explored with his fingers, searching for the depressions the interrogation team had said would be there.  So this was Carolyn's ultimate hiding place.  He moved slowly, shifting along on his knees to reach all four sides. When he found the indentations, it took only moments to apply the imprint sheets, mimicking his sister's palm and fingerprints. 

Soundlessly, the block cantilevered off the base and away from him at a touch.  Philip rested back on his heels, contemplating what the recess within the base revealed about his sister.  This had to have been designed during the original fabrication of the piece.  Why had she felt the need for such sophisticated concealment? She'd purchased this piece with a large portion of her Age of Majority endowment when she turned twenty-one. Had she been plotting, even then?

The concealed compartment was rectangular. At the bottom lay the ledger, with all its deadly secrets.  Four velvet drawstring bags were nestled alongside.  Two contained more of the missing House Plummer regalia, including the missing tiara and their father's signet ring.  The other two were crammed with vid chips. Retreating out of the early morning chill, Philip slipped back to the main sitting area and checked each one, setting them aside according to their contents. Codes, credit accounts, House informants, business records, outstanding debts.  Everything Carolyn had hoped to conceal.  Control of House Plummer was now completely his, within the constraints set by the Council and, ultimately, Lord William.

Without warning, Philip found himself on the floor, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion and fatigue.  The seeds of conflict between Philip and sister had been sown early; both of them brighter than the eldest, far more capable and destined to be passed over. They had jockeyed for position from the moment Philip appeared on the scene and could toddle after his older siblings. Now that he had ascended to the heights, however improbably, Philip felt no victory.  Tears filled his eyes as he fingered the bitter harvest which was now his responsibility to wield. 

The Plummer siblings, all of them, had paid a high price for their family's secrets and ambitions.

&&&&&

Willa slid into the shadows, sheltering behind the biggest outcrop she could find.  The lights had been shuttered, plunging them into absolute dark. Although Willa knew she would fight with her bare hands if necessary, she groped blindly for something to use as a weapon.  Her hand closed around a palm-sized stone.  Lynch crouched protectively at her shoulder.  The other two men were concealed, one slightly ahead on the precarious trail, poised to spring in ambush as the intruder passed. Lynch had positioned the younger down the trail, to prevent any escape if the initial attack failed.  A hastily contrived plan, but the best they had.

A light began to flicker, blazing briefly and then disappearing as the intruder followed the twists and curves of the downward passage. Willa could hear his progression clearly, the rattle of slips and slides down the precarious slope her son had described.  She leaned toward Lynch. In a nearly silent voice, she hissed, "Only one.  He could be valuable.  Take him alive if you can."

The light was stronger now, closer. Willa saw the outline of a powerful, erect build, moving with assurance.  This was not Lord Ventriss, whom she'd seen from a distance and knew to be of average height and unimpressive stature.  The tint of the light he carried indicated top of the line equipment. Likely an employee of Ventriss, well trained and dangerous. 

Willa tightened the fist around the stone she'd found. Even with an advantage of three fighting men to one, this man could be a challenge.  She wouldn't hesitate.  As much as she appreciated her son's protective instincts, Willa Gentry knew when to be ruthless in defense of her own.

She heard rather than saw the forward man hurtle from his hiding place, tackling the man as he passed.  Lynch moved instantly, hoping to pin him before he had the opportunity to recover.  Their advantage was brief, and the newcomer's skills were impressive.  Grunts of effort and cries of pain echoed through the shadows, and the action was a hopeless tangle of arms and legs.  The edge of the trail was precariously close. Lynch's discharge weapon skittered across the rough stones.

Willa heard the youngest of their group charging up the trail.  He crashed into the melee, knocking the others back down into a disorganized heap. Willa scrambled forward on her knees, feeling blindly for the discharge weapon with one hand.  A large body broke free, and rolled her direction, more aware of the available weapon than her presence.

As he scrambled forward, she rose up on her knees, and swung the rock blindly with both hands.   The crunch of stone to flesh and bone sickened her, and a moan of pain meant her swing had done damage.  She felt the man rise up on all fours, still going for the weapon. She struck again and the man went limp, hitting the ground with a thump.

"Get a light!  Mama, where are you?"  Lynch's voice.

"Here.  I'm fine."

The light flared.  Willa flinched away, the glare painful after so much absolute dark. Their target was crumpled by her knees, blood leaking slowly from a wound above his temple.  She looked at her son. Lynch, bruised and brushing blood out of his eyes, covered the distance between them.  "Are you hurt?  Did he - "

She held out the stone.  "He was trying for the discharge weapon. He didn't know I was here."

"Remind me never to underestimate you, Mama. This bastard would have taken us all. Damn."  Lynch rolled the crumpled figure over to his back. He rocked back on his heels with a fond grin on his face.  "Remarkable, Mama.  You just took out the Ventriss Seneschal.  May I introduce Gresham Knowleton."

&&&&&

After doing a quick overfly and finding no activity where Cave Falls emerged from the slot in three long, spectacular drops, they'd agreed the best choice was to avoid spooking their quarry by flailing around inside. There was one exit, and that was the place to wait.  Brown brought the transport down into the smallest possible break in the tree cover, an admirable exercise in flight control.  Their goal was to get into position as quickly and quietly as possible.

"Watch your hearing levels, Jim," Blair said quietly as he climbed out of the transport, steadying himself with a hand on the taller man's shoulder.  "We don't have the equipment as a buffer.  You're going to get more input than you need or want."  Jim glanced back at his guide with a look of surprise, realizing he was right.  They were a good hundred yards away from the falls, and the water on rock pounded like a hammer. Without the helmet and complicated gear they'd used following the slot canyon, this was almost too much.

"How can it be so different?" Jim asked, holding very still.  "I can't do this."

"We were using really good equipment," Blair said, holding his wrist.  "Good compensating electronics, lots to distract your attention. You had to concentrate on the hover controls, so it was easier not to get sucked in to the noise."

Jim looked at his guide with a terrified expression. Blair grabbed his shoulders. "Prioritize what you need to do, and consciously put the waterfall down the list.  It's a known quantity, not a threat.  Logically, you know you can safely ignore it.  Breathe slowly and let it fade."

It took nearly a minute before Jim nodded. "It's going to get harder, isn't it?"

"Probably.  But we'll handle it.  Just be sure to talk to me.  Don't try to tough it out alone.  And don't panic."

Jim carefully charted a path through the underbrush, using the sound of cascading water to guide him. Ironic, that. Sound was simultaneously a friend and a foe.  The terrain was steep. In spots, the undergrowth was so dense there was no alternative to taking a circuitous route that involved climbing over tangles of downed trees.  It was hard work, and Jim flinched every time a branch snapped under someone's boot.

Blair was already breathing hard.  He had his fist knotted into the utility belt of Jim's coverall. It was a practical gesture. Jim needed to slow the pace occasionally to avoid pushing Sandburg beyond his limits, and Blair needed to be close enough to coach an inexperienced sentinel.   They finally broke out of the brush onto a long slope of basalt slabs and loose rocks the size of a man's head, angular and hard to balance on.

The noise from the falls was deafening. Jim held up a fist and brought the group to a stop.  Leaning close so he could whisper, he asked, "It hurts.  What do I do?"

Blair placed Jim's hand flat on his own chest. "Close your eyes. Shut everything out and focus on me. Find my heartbeat, by touch, not hearing, and gradually ignore your other sensory inputs except for my voice."

Jim wanted to clap his hands over his ears, not do something totally crazy like feel for a heartbeat.  He forced himself to pay attention - the nubbly uniform fabric, the heat from Sandburg's skin, the slight dampness because he was sweating. Time slowed down to a crawl. He felt the lubdub of his guide's heart before he could hear it.  "Got it."

"Good.  You should be able to hear and understand what I'm telling you. That's it."

Eyes still closed, Jim nodded.  He stopped holding his breath and tried to relax.

"Keep your eyes closed for now. Screening out vision gives you one less thing to worry about.  Expand your hearing slowly.  You don't have a lot of practice, but try to ignore smell if you can.  Try to bring in each new sound in so it stays in the background. If something gets overwhelming, back off and try it again more slowly."

Jim frowned.  "This is harder."

"Remember your breathing.  Pace yourself with each breath.  That keeps you from moving to the next thing too quickly."

Suddenly, Jim started, and his eyes flew open. He gave a series of complicated hand signals that Blair didn't understand, but Rafe and Brown reacted immediately, moving into flanking positions and drawing their discharge weapons. Jim dropped to one knee, dragging Blair with him.

"I hear voices, coming this way." Jim tapped Brown on the shoulder, gesturing toward the falls.  He held up three fingers, and after a few moments, a fourth. 

What followed was a study in silent communication. Brown and Rafe melted back through the undergrowth in entirely different directions.  "Stay here, Chief.  Whatever happens don't budge from this spot, and stay down."

"No way," Blair said, shaking his head adamantly. "I stay with you."

"Sandburg, you're a civilian," Jim hissed.

"I'm a guide, and you're my sentinel. I'll keep out of the way. You need me."

"I don't have time for this," Jim snarled. "Now stay."

Blair folded his arms across his chest, a picture of a man whose mind was made up.  "This is stupid.  I did live fire for you. You make me stay, I'm just going to follow."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Jim sighed.  The voices were getting more distinct, and he needed to get into position.  "Whoever they are, they're still in the grotto behind the waterfall.  Their vision will be blocked, and it's a hard trail up out of the grotto, so we'll see them first.  Stay down.  I mean it."

The last cataract of Cave Falls plummeted into a large pool. The banks were open, but steep and slick with moss and moisture. Jim pulled up to shelter behind the largest clump of brushy vegetation that was close.  "Close enough?" he asked, clearly irritated. "They're on foot. They'll have to find a way up through the rocks.  We'll trap them just before they come up to the flat, depending on how they're armed."

"You guys worked all that out with hand signals?" Blair said with a frown.  "Boy, do I have a lot to learn."

Jim just smiled and started to adjust the setting on his discharge weapon.  Blair looked anxiously towards the waterfall, its curtain of plunging water concealing the grotto behind. Coming in and out with the hover equipment was completely different than scrambling around on foot. He couldn't imagine where the other two were, or how they'd close fast enough to take anyone by surprise. "Jim?  Can you see through the waterfall?"

"Through the water?  Are you crazy - oh.  You mean - oh."  Jim turned back and stared, conscious that Blair had scooted up close and placed a hand on his shoulder.  Two spots of light gleamed, bobbing with a sort of rhythm.  "Damn.  It works."

"Let it happen.  Don't force it."

For Jim, it was like following a vid drone into target, sharper and clearer and larger by the moment.   The change in perception happened so quickly it took his breath away  "Whoa."

"What did you see?" Blair whispered.

Jim didn't answer except for a smile.

&&&&&

"How dare you touch my person!" Marie Edwards snarled, as she pulled against Megan Connor's hold on her arm. "This is an outrage. No one humiliates me this way and gets away with it.  You'll be up on charges before the day is out."

"Most individuals find the inhibitor bands interfere with balance, Citizen Edwards.  However, if you prefer, we shall accommodate your wishes." With no further comment, Connor released her hold on Edwards' elbow.  The woman promptly stumbled, crashing into the wall and to the floor. Connor motioned to an officer from the detention team.  "Assist her, please, unless she'd rather crawl."

Edwards covered the remaining journey to her office in silence.  In a vain attempt to retain her dignity, she straightened the formal cloak of her office over her other damaged clothing.  Long hanks of hair still drooped into her eyes.  Once they entered the Administration Building, shocked employees created a gauntlet of eyes following their progress.  Connor didn't sense an air of sympathy.  The moment they entered the Chancellor's Suite, Connor rattled off the formal wording of the detention decree.  "Citizen Edwards, do you accept your detention?"

"I do not."

"So be it," Connor said, her inward satisfaction concealed behind her professional mask.  The greater the denial, the more leeway she, as the detaining officer, was allowed.  "You are officially informed that all aspects of your detention are being vid recorded and transmitted to Provincial Law and Justice.  Officers, remove the elements of her office."

Edwards' eyes widened.  Vid recording with immediate transmission implied Provincial supervision at a very high level.  She clung briefly to her cloak, resplendent with the crests of Rainier University and Cascade Province.  Connor could read the moment when the woman grasped how dire her situation really was.

Connor began to silently count, wondering how long the next development would take.  She and Prosecutor Sanchez had discussed this in advance. Edwards was a fixer, a facilitator of deals. She placed no real loyalty to anything other than her own convenience and advancement.  Her clients were pawns in a game, and due no loyalty. Soon, very soon, Connor was certain she would begin to bargain.

"Bring her," Connor said crisply. The Chancellor's inner office was already being methodically processed by Security Science Specialists. Reams of material were already being categorized by the evidence clerks.  Thanks to Meecha Foster, they knew where to look, and work was proceeding quickly.

"These are private," stammered Edwards. "Stop this at once. The University and Governor will be outraged."

"No, they won't.  Governor Thorneville personally notated your detention order." Edwards gasped in horror as one of the Specialists accessed a hidden compartment secreted in Edwards' work space. Connor stepped over to view the contents before anything was touched.  "My, my. That's an astonishing number of credit bonds for a humble public servant, Citizen Edwards.  And travel warrants to such a nice variety of locations. Planning a little journey off-continent, were we?"

Connor gave the specialist the signal to proceed. "Tell the other teams to commence the search of the other properties associated with Citizen Edwards. That will include your home, your summer residence, and that covert suite only your lovers are supposed to know about."  Edwards could no longer cover her horror, or her fear.  Her life was about to be laid bare.

When Connor looked up, she realized Minister Stoddard was hovering just beyond the inner office, watching in silence. Rainier University had been soiled by this woman, and it was finally time to bring her to account. This moment had to be a painful mixture of satisfaction coupled with profound regret. The older man's eyes were brimming with tears.

Edwards began to tremble.  "Officer, I can give you names.  I want to speak with the Prosecutor.  I deserve to be protected."

"Citizen Edwards, to fall under the protection of Cascade Province you must bring evidence to aid prosecution." Connor gestured toward the evidence team, hard at work.  "As you can see, there's nothing left for you to sell."

&&&&&

One last stop.  Philip stared out the forward view screen of the transport, grateful to leave the flying responsibilities to the pilot who had just joined him. Fortunately, the man had taken his cue for silence.   Exhaustion fused with unrelenting tension, and he twisted his father's signet ring restlessly around and around his finger.  No, that was wrong.  The Plummer signet was now rightfully his, and would remain on his hand until he passed it to Kyllan. He consciously stilled the unproductive cauldron of his thoughts, he placed his hands flat on the seat webbing. Now was not the moment to give in to the pressure.  Tonight, tomorrow, perhaps with Melissa at his side, he could yield to the enormity of his circumstances.

Trying to calm himself, he focused on the ring. A thing of beauty, but it felt strange and awkward on his hand.  As a child, he'd been enchanted by the spectacular blue sapphires which circled the bezel, the way they danced in the light with every move of his father's hand. Today he was painfully aware of the Plummer crest, cut in intaglio across the golden surface. Without Carolyn's interference and his father's destructive actions, the ring would never have been placed on his hand.  He'd expected to see the signet on Gerald's hand, feared its presence on Carolyn's. He'd never, ever imagined to wear it himself, with all its implications.  Philip ached to flee back to Melissa and his children, to avoid the price of ambition and power that was now his alone.

He sighed deeply as the pilot brought the transport into the landing dock.  Better to face this sooner rather than later.  He stepped out, nodded to the Council of Lords Security Officer posted at the door. Beyond, Gerald's home was dark and silent, as was to be expected.  The staff had been sequestered and all were being interrogated at another location. A very junior member of the kitchen staff and one of the children's attendants had been allowed to remain.

He found Gerald's joined partner, Erika, weeping silently in the family quarters.  "What are you doing here?" she snapped, angrily brushing tears off her cheeks. "Haven't you done enough? Or have you come to drive us out with nothing?"

A surge of anger in Philip died when he imagined his own Melissa, destitute and confused.  Erika had joined Gerald for the benefits of position, a dynastic choice rather than a love match.  Shallow and vain, she could be deliberately unkind, condescending, and credits evaporated from her fingertips at an alarming rate.  At this moment, Philip pitied her.  She had borne much; Gerald's constant infidelities topping a very long list. He drew up a chair beside her and gently took her hand.  "Erika, none of us had much choice in this.  Did Gerald tell you anything?"

"The security people - ." Erika's voice broke. "Everything happened so fast. The staff herded away. House arrest.  Not even a moment to speak with my family. What could I say to the boys?" Philip nodded, patting her hand. The Council's need for swift action didn't allow for a lot of compassion.

"And Gerald?"

Erika's shoulders slumped.  She looked small and lost.  "When they brought him back, he wouldn't see me. How could you, Philip? How could you? Carolyn - Carolyn was capable of betrayal. But you?"

"I didn't seek this, Erika." Damn Gerald.  This explanation should come from his lips. Just like him to retreat like a child.  "Gerald was passed over by the Council, Sister.  If I hadn't agreed, House Plummer would have ceased to exist. Would you rather have all of us adrift, castoffs of a broken House?  That was the alternative."

Erika struggled to speak.  Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks.  "Do my children have a future?"

"I very much hope so, Sister. I need to speak with Gerald."

Bitterness flashed across her face. "So nothing changes. It all comes down to Gerald in the end."  She pulled her hand from his and knotted her fingers in her lap.  "I think he's in the library.  That is, if there's any scotch left."

Philip stood, giving her a weak smile. "I hope for the best. And don't despair, Erika. These days will be difficult, but our House, our family, will survive." 

Taking her warning to heart, Philip stopped at the kitchen first.  The young kitchen assistant nearly jumped out her skin.  "It's all right," Philip said.  "Fresh coffee, please, and some sandwiches. Bring them to the library." He took a moment to question her about the state of household stores.  Erika wasn't known for her management skills, and the communications blackout was total.  Besides, the girl was as frightened for her future as Erika.  Philip authorized some immediate needs, and directed her to make arrangements for some of the children's favorites.

Essentials complete, he passed silently through the main reception area to the library.  Thankfully, it wasn't locked.  He found Gerald slumped in one of the armchairs, head in his hands. The room was very dark, but Philip could see well enough to take note of the half empty bottle on the table beside his brother. 

"Gerald?"

"So you're here.  What happens now, brother mine?"  Gerald's words were slow and slurred, and he laughed bitterly. "It should be Lord Philip. Forgive me.  Shall I take a knee?"

Philip took the chair opposite his brother. For all his faults, he didn't hate Gerald.  Lifelong resentment, yes, but Philip felt no desire to gloat.  Neither of them had asked for an idiot, treasonous father or an ambitious, ruthless sister.  The House needed peace, not more strife.  "What happens first is coffee, and something to eat."

"How very generous, Lord Plummer," Gerald said sarcastically.

"Stop it," Philip said sharply. He accessed the room controls and brought sun into the room.  Gerald winced as the light hit his red-rimmed eyes.  "Gerald, I will say this once, and you will accept it without question.  I didn't go to Lord William, he summoned me.  He gave me an ultimatum.  I had to accept or lose the House for all of us.  Would that have been better?  The name Plummer gone, and our Crest defaced in black in the Archive?"

Gerald slumped back in his chair, but he held Philip's gaze. "Lord William said as much," he said in a weary voice, and downed the last swallow of scotch. From the look of his eyes and the pallor of his face, he didn't need it.

"Gerald, I resented the hell out of you since the day I understood you were the heir and I wasn't, but I never would have challenged the succession.  You must know that."

Gerald bit his lip and looked away. "I'll give you that. You supported me when Carolyn made her power play, damn her to the ancestors.  You were as upset as I was."  He paused, thinking.  "She was so close to taking control.  What happened?"

Philip shrugged.  What he knew about James, and the other things he had guessed weren't to be shared.  "We may never know. Whatever happened, Carolyn's fall from grace was swift and absolute.  Lord William and the others keep their own counsel."

Gerald drew his finger in slow circles around the rim of the empty glass.  "Lord William, indeed. He certainly was in control when they dragged me in."  He swallowed hard, struggling to control his voice.  "I pledged to respect your authority.  Carolyn was screaming in protest when they escorted me away. How bad was it with - with the interrogators?"

Philip closed his eyes, not wanting to think of the naked skin of his sister's skull, or her vacant eyes.  "As bad as it can get.  They'll know more in a few days.  I begged her not to force my hand.  It makes me sick, the whole thing."

There was a soft knock.  The kitchen assistant brought in a tray, as requested. She looked terrified. "Thank you, young woman. You may go," Philip said briskly. "I'll serve. See to the children's treats, as I requested.  And then send something up to Lady Erika."

He poured.  Gerald accepted the coffee with both hands.  The cup chattered on the saucer as his hands trembled.  "What did you send the boys?" he asked softly.

"I arranged for pizza.  Kyllan loves the stuff, so I figured that was safe. They must be very confused, and frightened."

Gerald sipped slowly.  "Poor boys.  I couldn't bring myself to face them.  Erika - what can I possibly say to her?  After this, she'd probably be better off to revoke our joining.  With cause."

Philip waited until his brother fought his way through the first sandwich and started on a second cup of coffee.  "Gerald, Lord William and the others expect me to exile you." 

Gerald met his brother's eyes.  "I didn't expect anything else.  In continent or overseas?  Or is location a moot point, and this is all a prelude to elimination?"

"Gerald - "

"I gave my word.  I signed all status away, just the way they asked." Gerald's voice rose, bitterness replaced by panic.  "Foster my boys, I beg you.  Place them with a good family. I won't interfere. Give them a secondary House name if necessary, but give them a chance at a life."

"Gerald, silence!"  Philip cringed at the tone of command.  Gerald had gone to his knees, still pleading for his children. Philip grabbed his wrists to finally still him.  "Listen to me, Brother. Listen!"  He waited until Gerald stilled.  "Our House is on the brink.  The estate is nearly destroyed.  Some of our assets will be carved off as penalty for Father's treason.  There's enough work for you, me, and all our boys for decades if we have any chance to bring House Plummer back from this disaster.  Gerald, for the sake of the House, I need you here, not rotting away somewhere waiting for time or despair to take you."

Gerald didn't hide his confusion.  "No.  No one keeps the jilted heir.  I was expecting termination. You can't mean this."

Philip shook his head.  "We've already lost a sister.  A brilliant, talented sister, an asset to the House, sacrificed on the altar of ambition.  Isn't that enough?  Get off the floor, Gerald, and listen to me."  Philip waited until his brother struggled off his knees and collapsed in the armchair. "We don't have time for shades of gray, Brother.  I realize more than ever that Father was a horrible Head of House.  Compared to Ellison and the others, he kept us at arm's length."  Gerald was staring in rapt attention, so he plunged on.  "What training did either of us get from him?  Neither of us had any idea how much authority he was relinquishing to Carolyn.  You were the heir. He abandoned you and was content with your debauchery if it kept you busy and out of the way."

"There's truth in that," Gerald said slowly. "He made it easy, you know, and Erika, well, we're not a love match." 

"He looked the other way for his own selfish ends. Gerald, you may be a wastrel, but you have talent.  Right now, your House needs you.  I need you."

Gerald made no effort to hide his shock. "You'd do this?"

"Gerald, I have never, ever doubted your loyalty to the House.  I'm asking a lot of you to put aside your feelings and support me.  If I don't have an ally, I'll have to rely exclusively on Lord William and the others, and their help will come at a price.  House Plummer will emerge, but as a skeleton whose bones have been picked clean."

"That old buccaneer."  Gerald rubbed at his forehead. 

"I'm asking a lot.  Give up your dalliances, the drinking, the gambling. I need a strong, determined partner, not a weak sibling drowning in bitterness and sloth.  For our House, and our children.  All of them."

"By the ancestors, you're right." Philip watched as his brother fought through the haze of alcohol to concentrate.  " Are you really willing to take a chance on me?"

Philip knew this was the moment to define the rest of their lives. "I want to reclaim our House, for all of us.  I want our children to grow up together, to be educated together, with a common cause. We don't need another generation of Plummer against Plummer.  I'll scratch and claw and fight for what's ours, but I can't be watching my back and accomplish anything.  I need an answer, Gerald. An answer you will honor for the rest of your days."

"I'm shocked.  I can't believe you'd do this."  Gerald straightened, and at that moment, noticed his brother's hands. "You found it. The Plummer signet ring."

Philip touched the ring which bore the Plummer crest. "Yes.  One  of the last things Carolyn gave up."

"I waited all my life to wear that ring." Anguish passed across his brother's face, and then he gave a resigned nod.  "It's gone to a better man.  Even I have to admit that."  Without warning, Gerald pushed out of his chair to kneel on one knee, lowering his forehead until it pressed against the signet.  "I pledge myself to you, Lord Philip Plummer, Head of my House, Brother of my family.  I offer my life in surety of this pledge.  I speak for my children, and their children."

Philip's throat tightened.  "Brother of my family, I accept your pledge for House Plummer. I speak for my children, and their children."

Gerald lifted his head, a tight smile on his lips, the expression on his face a glimmer of the Gerald of old.  "I can't imagine what you're thinking, but I'm yours. I might actually be good at this. Now let's go rip their throats out and take back our House."

 &&&&&


	5. Chapter 5

Guide Finding Chapter  5

Beverly Sanchez leaned against her work station, fascinated by the live vid feed coming from the Edwards' detention. She had to admit, S.I. Connor had a certain flair for the dramatic despite following the rule of Citizen Statute to the letter.  Must be that Austro-Pacific lineage.  They had a planet-wide reputation for being both irreverent and inventive.

"Prosecutor Sanchez?  A word please?"

Sanchez sighed and flipped off the viewer off with annoyance.  Considering the complicated prosecutions she had responsibility for, that vid was likely to be the entertainment for the day.  On the other hand, her Support Specialist Thompson Ritchie had excellent judgement and didn't interrupt without cause.  She activated their office com link.  "Of course, Thompson, but let's be brief."

"My apologies, Prosecutor. I know the detention is ongoing."

"Ongoing, but the tricky part is over. What is it?"

"Garrett Kincaid has activated an immediate request for a Justice Hearing." 

"Oh, please!" Sanchez flopped back in the nearest comfortable chair.  "How disgusting.  As if that one has some mitigating circumstance that would justify leniency. Sit down, Thompson, and give me all the gory details."

Ritchie angled his tall frame into a chair at the conference area.  "I consulted with the Senior Provincial Prosecutor's staff before bothering you. His staff takes the position that he should be seen."

"I don't suppose they volunteered," Sanchez said tartly.

"Not in the least."  Ritchie handed her a vid, designated as an official opinion from her superior's staff by its red exterior.  "However, they did point out that although there are ample reasons to dismiss the request, a Justice Hearing is a basic Citizen Right."

"And agreeing means one less objection during Proceedings," Sanchez said.  "Damn.  I don't want to be in the same room with him.  Kincaid's a vicious sociopath."

"Worse than Plummer or Ventriss, Lord and heir-elect?"

"Much.  Plummer is an aggrandizing, self-serving traitor with silly dreams of grandeur, who never figured out he was a means to an end.  Ventriss young and old are perversions to nature.  Those impulses can be understood.  Kincaid is different altogether."

Ritchie looked thoughtful.  "You could justify using vid," he suggested hopefully. "The press of prosecutions, ongoing detentions.  We could be a little creative."

Beverly nodded, grinning at her co-conspirator. "Oh, create away. Anything to stay out of the presence of that monster, at least until we go to the Provincial Tribunal and prosecute. Any idea what he has in mind?"

"Let's make a deal, without a doubt. Willing to let him off, Boss?"

"If there was ever a candidate for the Maximum Decree, it's him."  She tapped a finger against the work station, considering.  "I can't imagine a punishment short of prolonged torture ending in termination that actually fits his crimes against the Province. Any idea what's being offered? Any hint in the filings for Hearing?"

"Kincaid? I have absolutely no idea. I think he's demented, and his advocate is totally unpredictable.  What could he have that the Province wants?"

"Excellent question.  I'd don't like dealing from a position of ignorance. Has his contact been limited to his advocate?" 

Ritchie nodded.  "Officially, yes.  Unofficially, we both know he has ways of communicating with his minions who are still at large."

"Then contact Science Services and have them find out who his advocates have contacted.  The same for Kincaid's known associates, those we have in detention and those still at large.  We have the latitude, because of the Treason charge.  Tell them to rush it.  I want the information before I conduct a Hearing."

"Right away."

"I'll leave the other details to you. Set up the vid link, and for maximum impact, arrange for me to conduct the Hearing from one of our more formal interview suites. If you'll arrange for my regalia?"

"Of course, Prosecutor.  What timing do you prefer?"

"Tomorrow late.  Naomi Sandburg can't be put off for a second once she's available. Kincaid can sit and stew, because he's last on my list.  Dead last."

"No pun intended, Prosecutor?" Ritchie asked, a sly grin spreading over his face.

"For bringing a sonic cannon into the Province with the intent to use it on the populace?  What do you think?"

&&&&&

Alarms were chiming all over the medical suite. Senior Medic Frank McCarthy stared anxiously at the bioscreen results, while Microsurgeon Marjorie Lake worked frantically with the stim probes.  "She's stabilizing, Lake.  Concentrate on the kidneys.  If we can get - "

"By the ancestors, her kidneys are losing density by the moment.  Increased necrotic levels. I'm going to infuse more stem cells."

"We've done that twice.  It hasn't worked," McCarthy protested.

"It's not going to work now, either. I'm trying to buy us a little time."

"Self-stem or donor?"

"Both.  Anything and everything.  There's hardly anything in her body active enough for us to harvest, so I can't do exclusively self-donation."  Lake worked frantically.  She was the best in the Province, but Naomi Sandburg was an exceptionally difficult case. "All I can do is buy a little time."

"Marjorie, we could back off her pain regulators," McCarthy suggested.  "The Prosecutors want her testimony.  That takes priority over everything else.  Give up the stabilization and just get her out of medisleep."

"Your priorities are different than mine."

"Be reasonable!  She's no one important - "

Lake looked away from her work long enough to glare at her colleague. "No.  Absolutely not. Notify the Prosecutors if you want. They can find someone else if they want to question my judgement, or remove me.  This woman isn't going to consciously suffer one more minute if I have anything to say about it."

The chimes began to still.  McCarthy shook his head as he watched the readings. "I don't believe it. It's working."

"Not for long," Lake said. "Contact Provincial Law and Justice and Security Services.  Tell them that if we get Naomi Sandburg out of medisleep, it won't be for long. They need to be here waiting for whatever moments they may get."

"And her son?" McCarthy said quietly.

Lake shook her head.  "Give me another hour, then we call Sandburg and Ellison in. By then I'll know if she's going to survive long enough to come out of it."  She stared at McCarthy, making sure he understood the nuance of what she was about to say.  "If she makes it out of medisleep, Blair Sandburg deserves those moments, but I won't have him here just to watch the scans go dark.  It's my decision, not yours.  Understood?"

&&&&&

"Get moving, Knowleton.  If we have to carry you, you'll regret it."

Gresham Knowleton stumbled forward, unbalanced from the shove at his back.  Pain thundered through his head and every inch of his body.  His hands were fastened behind him, and blood dripped steadily into his left eye. "I can't see, Gentry.  Give us some damn light."

"Enough, both of you.  Do you think he falls because he wants to brain himself? I already took care of that." The blurry figure of a woman appeared out of the gloom.  "Give me a cloth."

Knowleton stood, motionless, as she wiped across his brow and pressed firmly.  "We don't have medical supplies or time to spare.  Can you see?"

Knowleton nodded.  Who was this woman?  She barely cleared his shoulder, intelligent eyes, dark hair streaked with gray. In a fight with three men, it was this tiny thing who brought him down?   And who gave commands to Lynch Gentry, as ruthless a character as ever came out of the Boundary?

"Lynch, untie his hands so he can balance. Loop that thing around his throat, where it will actually do us some good."  The petite woman turned to him and gave him a fierce look. "Now listen to me." She tore the cloth down the middle and knotted the joined strips over the cut on his head. "Seneschal, we're going to sell you.  Some buyers are more desirable than others.  If the Security Services miss Ventriss somehow, he'd pay just for the pleasure of killing you. So stay on your feet, quit stumbling around like an idiot, and we'll take it into consideration when we make our deal for you.  Got it?" The woman's gaze was focused not on Gresham's face, but behind.  Interesting. The message wasn't meant for him alone.

"Understood."  Knowleton peered at her from under the bandage. "Am I allowed to make suggestions?"

A tiny smile broke across her weathered face. "Maybe.  Walk faster and I might actually listen to them. Now, on your feet."

Someone from behind hauled him to his feet. He stumbled along, conscious of the impromptu noose that threatened to choke him.  As much as he wanted to make another try for escape, it was a waste of time. At least he had the use of his hands, and could steady himself as they worked their way back to the entrance.

Every step sent new pain shooting through his aching head. Knowleton blanked everything out, ignoring the hushed conversation going on behind him, their location in the passage, the bouncing light that only added to his malaise.  He stopped looking ahead, his only concern the rock beneath his feet and the need to take the next step, to climb and keep moving forward.

The restraining line eventually jerked sharply on his neck. He choked reflexively, looked up and tried to focus.  A curtain of water pounded down in front of him.  So they'd made it to the entrance.  He was hauled around to face none other than Lynch Gentry.

"You've been out this way?"

Still choking, Knowleton could only nod.

"Then you know the drill.  We climb.  It's steep, and it's slippery.  Try anything and you'll never draw another breath.  I'll strangle you in a heartbeat, or just shove you in that torrent and let the water beat you to death.  Understand?"

His vision was going black by the time Gentry released the pressure.  He gasped one ragged breath after another, coughing in between.  One of Gentry's lackeys looped another line around his wrist, cinching it tight and knotting it.  Knowleton understood. He would have use of his hands to scramble up through the entrance to Cave Falls, but there would be control both above and behind.

If he'd possessed the energy, Knowleton would have nodded in approval.  For an untutored denizen of the Boundary, Gentry was smart, with a real mind for tactics. Had the roles been reversed, he would have done the same.  A hushed conversation went on behind him, and then they began their slow ascent.

Knowleton emerged from the veil of the falls soaked to the skin.  The rock was slick, and his cold fingers felt fat and wooden, with no strength.  After slipping twice and being hauled back from the water's edge by wrist and throat, he stayed down, crawling on his knees, fighting for every hand and toehold.  

When they'd finally cleared the water, Gentry hauled him up by the collar.  "On your feet."  Knowleton heard the hum of the discharge weapon as it charged, and the loop about his neck tightened. "Get to the top, and I'll listen to those suggestions you were talking about."

Knowleton bowed his head and plunged on. He was frantically sorting through a mental list of bargaining chips when he sensed rather than saw movement. He went down hard under Gentry's body, and was crushed against rock as a furious, noisy struggle continued on his prone form.  Gentry was yelling at the woman to flee.  Knowleton heard her footsteps scrambling up the slope, but he also heard the sound of pursuit.

She wouldn't get far.

The next thing he saw was boots.  Boots and uniforms.  The uniform cut and shoulder flashings he recognized.  Major Incident was the last bunch he wanted to see, but Knowleton examined the gathering faces, hoping for someone familiar, someone he could negotiate with. 

An officer with dark skin, a man of impressive height and breadth, already had Gentry in restraints.  Apparently he knew Gentry, and his reputation, by sight. Besides standard restraints, they had Lynch by the hair.  The two helpers weren't going anywhere either, facedown and pinned by the knee of a more senior officer.  Knowleton couldn't see his face.  He was relatively tall and well-built, wearing the flashings of an S.S.I.  This was the man he'd need to appeal to.

Aching, Knowleton pushed to his knees. He had one chance to bluff and it was now.  Chances were they'd believe him over Gentry, at least for the moment.  He'd stripped off all his Ventriss insignia before leaving Lord Norman to his fate.  "S.S.I., these men accosted me -"

"Don't move another muscle, and shut your mouth." The senior man moved fast. Knowleton caught a glimpse of intensely blue eyes before he was pitched forward on his face again as his arms jerked behind the small of his back.  He felt the restraint bands seal around his wrists.

"Stop!  You've got it all wrong!" he protested.  "You don't know who you're dealing with."

The officer was strong.  Knowleton was hauled to his feet and slammed to a seat on the nearest boulder.  "I know exactly who you are.  Where's Ventriss, Seneschal?"

"You're making a mistake," Knowleton pleaded, his mind racing.  Something about the man's face seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't supply a name. A name might help, might give him an angle to negotiate.  Nothing came. He'd just have to press on blindly. "I'm on your side. I have information -"

"Spare us," the other officer snapped. "We had ident scans at the Estate. Lord Norman couldn't pilot a transport like that.  You did."

"You don't understand.  I was buying time.  I always intended to -"

"You serve a perverted House, and aided a fugitive to evade Provincial Detention."  The senior officer glanced at his colleague.  "Brown, I'll take this one. Drag the rest of this bunch up to the clearing.  Knowleton, on your feet. Move." 

Knowleton stumbled up the slope, propelled by a firm hand in his back.  As the slope leveled off, he was shoved back to his knees, and the officer looked off toward some nearby trees.  "Chief, come on down. We're clear."

Knowleton slumped in despair.  His luck couldn't be any worse.  The man slipping out into the open was Blair Sandburg.

&&&&&

"I couldn't possibly eat."

Shaking her head, Ramona tucked Eli's favorite sweater more closely about his shoulders.  Hopefully, he'd give in soon and just put it on.  "Eli, you mustn't take this as a personal failure. No matter how the Justice Proceedings progress, Edwards will never be trusted in a position of responsibility. The vid evidence was damning."

"I'm not worried about her future. It's that I should have stopped her long ago."

Ramona sank down to the footstool to sit opposite her partner of so many years.  "Darling, you did everything you could.  You know this.  You were a Provincial Minister.  Everything had to be done at arm's length."

Eli looked up from his tea, his expression bleak. "Edwards won't be the only damage. Rainier University spawned her, and will be held accountable for her actions.  Can you imagine the outrage from the citizenry?"

"I most certainly can imagine the outrage. We've lived it in this house for years. I know how much you love Rainier, but even you must realize that some accounting is due even though Edwards should be the focus.  You may have to fight even harder now if Rainier is to move forward."  She moved the small plate of fruit from the table to his lap. "So you must rest, and eat, because there is more for you to do."

"No," he said, picking up an apple slice and then lowering before it ever touched his mouth.  "It will be too much.  It was the right, the moral thing to do, but I should have anticipated the consequences and prepared accordingly.  I feel my age, and my dying breaths will probably be spent watching Rainier University being torn down, stone by stone."

"Eli, that's quite enough!" Ramona said sharply. "You're worn out, not dying. Now stop imagining the worst and concentrate on what has been gained.  Blair Sandburg will have his life back.  The faculty will finally stop looking over their shoulders.  Those with true merit will have the opportunity they deserve at Rainier."

"It's a blood-letting, not a victory. You know how the average citizen in the Province will see this.  We have a society of castes.  It manages to survive just ahead of total chaos because there is some hope for advancement, if not for the individual, for the family or the children. Rainier University is supposed to be the flagship of that hope.  What's a Level Four Citizen supposed to think?  I'll tell you - that they've been played false all along. This is the kind of thing that starts revolutions."

Ramona sat back and crossed her arms across her chest. "Honestly, Eli, this isn't like you.  If that's what you really believe, comlink Governor Thorneville.  Meet with him one to one, the way you always have.  Use your influence to shape the story.  Make sure the public focus is on Edwards, not the institution."

"Arranging a beer and one of those dreadful meat burger things he likes hardly seems appropriate," Eli said mournfully. "I can't play Don Quixote any more, dear.  I have to accept it. I'm retired.  It's over."

"Retired?  Really?  Now you notice?" Ramona said acidly.  "Could have fooled me.  And just what did you think you were doing since S.I. Connor appeared at our door? Racing about, scheming and shaking things up, just like always.  I should fetch Megan and have the dear girl give you a good shake.  And while she's at it -"

The chime from their external sensors interrupted her. Eli rolled his eyes. "Who ever it is, I can't see them."

"Don't you move from that spot, Eli. I mean it." Ramona disappeared briefly, only to return with a grin on her face, Elizabeth Okalu in tow.

"Eli, how dare you turn off your personal com on a day like this!" Okalu scolded.  "The University is in an uproar, and you're nowhere to be found."

Eli set his cup aside and stood.  "You were always a wonderful colleague, Elizabeth, but I'll never set foot on campus again.  I can't face the damage.  I'm so sorry."

Okalu threw up her hands.  "Sorry for what?  Are you serious?  It's an emancipation."

Eli looked indignant.  "It's a scandal!"

"Of course it is, but it's all on Edwards' head, not ours.  Provincial Justice has centers set up, allowing students and faculty to come forward. The lines are growing by the minute."  Okalu spun on her heel.  "Ramona, how long has he been like this?"

"Doesn't matter," Ramona said. "It's over now. You didn't arrive a moment too soon, Elizabeth."

"Now just a minute," Eli started. "I'm right here, you know, and still in command of my faculties."

"Oh, Eli, hush."  Ramona took his hand.  "Elizabeth wouldn't be here if she didn't need you. As long as I've known you, you could charm the birds out of the trees and run every show, but every now and then you really just need to follow directions.  Now, Elizabeth, dear, which regalia does he need, the University or the Provincial?"

Professor Okalu smiled brightly.  "Both!"

&&&&&

Jim waited until Sandburg stepped to his side. He still looked ill, which worried him. The younger man's teeth were clenched, and he was trembling with rage - or hate.  "Knowleton.  You bastard."

Jim grabbed his arm before Blair could even think about moving, and shook his head.  Blair stilled, but every muscle was gnarled with tension.

Knowleton met Blair's outrage with calm that was obviously forced.  "Blair Sandburg, it's not what you think.  I pitied your mother, but there was nothing I could do.  Nothing."

"Interesting conversion, considering the circumstances."  Jim knelt so he was eye level with Knowleton, but kept his body firmly between his guide and the man.  "I know House Ventriss, and I know the role of a Seneschal.  When all else failed, you could have resigned and gone directly to the Council of Lords.  You didn't. There's blood on your hands, and you aren't talking your way out of this one.  If there's any doubt, I'll claim ancient justice and kill you myself."

Knowleton recoiled at the allusion to a House connection. "You claim allegiance to a House? Your name, Officer?"

"Sentinel S.S.I. Ellison.  James Ellison, first son of House Ellison." Jim enjoyed a certain satisfaction as the implications fell into place and understanding registered on Knowleton's face.  Just to make sure all the implications were perfectly clear, Jim continued.  "As you may have guessed, I'm a sentinel.  You tormented my guide, and tortured his mother.  You of all people know what to expect."

 "You're a Sentinel?  But I know - there was no record of Sentinel lineage in House Ellison."  Knowleton rocked back, stunned by what had just been revealed.  "I didn't know."

 "I've always been something of a surprise." Jim pressed close, speaking softly. "Listen carefully. I want Ventriss, and I want him now. You either become very useful to me, very quickly, or I'll resort to more direct measures." He glanced at Blair. "Considering the circumstances, no one's going to ask me a lot of messy questions."

Behind them, Brown sucked in a surprised breath. "Jim, take it easy, man."

"He was running, the coward." Gentry struggled to his knees. "If you'd given us a chance, we wanted to deal.  We went in after Ventriss, and this one came flying right down into us.  He was yours for the asking."

"How did you know where to look?" Jim asked.

It wasn't an idle point.  Lynch's eyes glittered, and he met the implied accusation head on. "We had business connections. Connections we'd already decided to sever."  He eyed Brown, who'd made no effort to hide his contempt.  "I don't claim to have many scruples, but Ventriss is too perverted, even for us.  He was worth more as a bargaining chip than a client."

Brown jerked him roughly.  "You're a slaver, and now you're talking about standards? And you think we'll believe that?"

"Maybe you were mounting a rescue," Jim said. "That sounds more like it."

Gentry shook his head emphatically. "We knew where Ventriss would go, and it was to our advantage to turn him in.  I base decisions on business, not loyalty.  You're first son of House Ellison.  Tell me a House is any different."

Jim was silent.  He knew better than most the decision-making protocols of the Founding Fifty. Before Jim even considered it, Sandburg was whispering in his ear.  "Scan his body, Jim.  Heartbeat, body temperature.  You'll know if he's telling the truth."

Jim had an answer at a gut level before his conscious mind caught up.  Gentry, slaver though he was, was more truthful than Knowleton.  "Why should I believe you?" Jim asked.

Gentry nodded in Knowleton's direction. "Did he come out looking like a man being rescued?"

Well, that settled it. "Is Ventriss in there? Don't try to lie to me."

Gentry's answer was immediate and defiant. "To a sentinel? I may be Boundary, but I'm not stupid. He's there.  I'm sure of it.  I know the layout.  We saw your Security Services transports coming in.  You have them at the landing bay?"

Seeing no reason to deny it, Jim nodded.

"Then Knowleton knew they were trapped and bolted in the end.  Not that I blame him. Norman Ventriss isn't worth taking a risk for, even if you're his Seneschal."  Gentry shrugged.  "Why should I dig the wild animal out of the den when this one served himself up? Like I said, you guys were first on my list of potential buyers."

"Right," Brown said skeptically. "Security Services wants your head, and you're going to come to us."

"For certain considerations, yes." Gentry shifted uncomfortably, but his focus never wavered.  "Things have been a bit uncomfortable lately.  Powers in the Province ebb and flow, and Cascade's on the brink of change. People like me change alliances when it suits us.  Maybe Lord high and mighty over there might enlighten you about shifting loyalties with aristos." Gentry jerked his shoulder away from Brown's hand.  "Business, like I said."

Jim's head snapped around.  "Someone's coming.  Rafe?  That you?"

A new voice came from the trees.  "Yeah, it's me.  Got her, guys."  Rafe came into view, dragging a still-struggling woman by the elbow.  Jim had only caught a glimpse before she'd fled, and they'd been busy subduing the others.  A tendril of gray hair strayed across her forehead, and her gray eyes burned defiantly. An odd companion, judging by her age. Jim's eyes flicked back to Gentry. "Who is she?"

"No concern of yours," Lynch snarled, struggling against Brown's hold.  "You won't find her on any detention order.  Let her go."

"Rafe, stop!"

Jim turned in surprise, taken aback by the tone in his guide's voice.  He turned just in time to see Blair push Rafe's hands away, and slide between Rafe and his charge. To Jim's shock, Sandburg turned and bowed formally.

"Mistress Willa.  I hope you are unhurt, and I beg your forgiveness." Blair straightened and pinned the three Security Officers with a fierce look.  "Deactivate the restraints and let her go. Now."

Jim couldn't find his voice.  What was Sandburg thinking?

Brown looked equally shocked, but managed to stammer out a response.  "Sandburg, you can't be serious!  She's with him. This is Lynch Gentry. He's -"

"I know exactly who he is," Blair said coldly. "I know who he is, and what he does.  We've met, remember? I also know this woman. Rafe, do it now."

Rafe hesitated, and looked to Jim. Even on limited duty, he was the senior officer.  "Jim?"

Blair's actions were inexplicable, but after the last few days, Jim wasn't prepared to start second guessing.  "Do it."

The restraints dropped to the ground at Willa's feet. Instinctively, she took a step back and rubbed at her wrist.  When Sandburg offered his arm, she accepted.  Hesitantly, she followed him, until they stood before the tall security officer with the depthless blue eyes.

"S.S.I. James Ellison, may I present Mistress Willa, mother of Lynch Gentry.  Mistress Willa released me from captivity in the Boundary," Blair said. "She brought me back to you, Sentinel.  She alone, at great risk and to no gain of her own.  In a difficult world, she is a woman of compassion and honor, and she treated me with great kindness.  You probably saw her, if you think about it."

And then Jim remembered.  The woman.  The woman in the shadows, leading Sandburg into the open, under fire, with pursuers on their heels, bringing him out towards the Boundary security barriers. After he and Steven had dumped Sandburg into the flyer, he hadn't given her another thought, or asked for an explanation.

"Mistress Willa saved my life." Blair looked over at Brown and Rafe, and then back to Jim.  His tone was still very formal.  "Officers, I believe this woman has no part in this current matter.  We have no interest in her.  In fact, I don't think she was ever even here."

"I see," Jim said slowly. And he did.  Blair owed this diminutive, gray-haired woman a debt. She apparently had defied her son to do it.  Considering the circumstances of Sandburg's escape from the Boundary, Jim had every reason to assume the same obligation.  "S.I. Brown, does the name Willa Gentry appear in any of our directives?"

Brown was a quick study.   He might not know all of the details, but he could put the disparate elements together.  "I don't recall a Willa Gentry as a non-citizen of interest."

"In that case, I think Mistress Gentry is free to go," Jim said formally.  "With my thanks."

"Go where?" Willa asked, challenging the man who towered over her by a head.  Jim made a mental note not to underestimate this woman.  "Back to the Boundary?  On foot?  Without my son, or an escort? You may as well make it quick and execute me here and now."

"We wanted a deal.  We still want a deal," Gentry interrupted.  "In fact, it was her idea." He smiled wanly at Willa. "She'll always be a bit smarter than me."

Brown spat on the ground.  "You have a detention order on your head, and you think you'll walk away free with credits in your pocket?"

"No," Willa interrupted. "Consideration. A relationship, ongoing. Besides, Officers, we have what I think you want."

"And what might that be?" Jim asked.

"My son can take you through the underground, and get you through into the smuggling bay.  You could maybe do it on your own, but it would take time. You could breach the barrier doors, and that would take time, too."  She glanced at her son, who nodded in agreement.  She pointed at Knowleton.  "This one was Lord Norman's right hand.  He was there that night, Sentinel, lining up to buy your guide. Do you really want him bargaining for freedom?"  Jim's expression was unreadable.  "We don't want credits, we want the opportunity to seek mutual benefit.  Now and for the future."

"You want your slaver son's freedom," Brown said bitterly.

"I'm a mother.  What would you expect?"  Willa said. "Sentinel, Ventriss is almost in your grasp.   Would you rather get what you need from Seneschal Ventriss, or from me?"

&&&&&

Steven hovered over his father's shoulder. The frustration from Captain Taggert and his father was palpable. "You don't suppose Lord Norman inserted a genetic marker into the entrance code, do you, Father?"

"It's possible," Taggert said grimly.  "We have specialists I can access.  We have a cooperative relationship with tech teams in Frisco Province. Lord Ellison?"

William shook his head.  "Worthwhile embedded genetics would require Norman's presence. He wasn't that hands on. It's got to be something else. Something an underling could use, that wasn't typical for security coding."

"You keep saying Norman Ventriss was a lightweight, but the Seneschal wasn't," Taggert said.  "Something from his background?"

Taggert notified the Security Service teams interrogating the Ventriss staff to concentrate on anyone reporting directly to Gresham Knowleton. Lord William directed House Security to immediately visit Lord Norman's few confidants.  Now that House Ventriss had been broken, the advantage lay in volunteering any relevant information swiftly.  Steven was using his personal com to reach out to fellow Seneschals when the unit began to pulse with a now familiar personal code.

"Jim," Steven stated for the benefit of those around him.  "Maybe they got him." 

The other two men watched intently, piecing together the story from Steven's end of the conversation.

_"You have Knowleton? Excellent."_

     "Is he talking?"

     "Oh really. That's in the regulations, is it, Jim?"

     "From whom? The woman - right - right."

     "Can you transmit directly to Taggert's screen?"

     "Are you at the controls? Then you won't miss a thing."

"It's coming through," Taggert said, watching his vid screen closely. "Damn.  We had this, Lord Ellison.  The fourth level protocols we just tried.  Why didn't it work then?"  Taggert looked up, a sheepish expression on his face.  "Well, we never would have tried that.  It's too simple."

"What?" William demanded impatiently, annoyed that all his efforts had come down to this.

"Well, we were partially correct. Ventriss left the details to his Seneschal.  Gresham Knowleton served most of his career in the military."  The three of them watched as the substructure of the bay doors revealed themselves and began to open. 

"By the ancestors, what were we missing?" Lord William demanded.

"Let me guess," said Steven, grinning. "Knowleton always wore an off-world service circlet, in honor of fallen comrades.  It reminded me of James' service and I asked him about it. He said he never took it off."

"Got it in one."  Taggert's look of satisfaction faded.  "The Off-World Services Crest is the final code, simple visual. Shame that the man signed on with Ventriss.  I might have liked him."  Taggert called back to the waiting personnel.  "Send the teams in."

&&&&

Norman Ventriss rolled to his back, staring angrily at the blackness above him.  Lying here in the cold and dark was ridiculous, and he'd endured quite enough. This hiding was all Knowleton's fault. By now he should be long out of Cascade Province, and well on his way to his island property in the Carib.

 By the ancestors, where was Knowleton anyway?

 Ventriss resisted the urge to bellow for his wayward Seneschal.  He felt his way along the darkened passages to the Navigation Suite.  Every screen was ablaze with images.  "Where are you, Knowleton?" Ventriss hissed. "Wherever you are, the minute I'm safe, you're fired."  He was about to storm out when an unmistakable groan froze him in place.

 The bay doors were opening.

 He began to search the vid screens. Security Forces, swarming over and into the now open smuggling bay.  He jumped at the ominous sounds of the exterior doors being breached. Fumbling, he activated the ship lighting, screaming as he went for his Seneschal.  Other than the sounds of being boarded, his own voice echoed through the empty ship.  He had to get away, or hide.  No, hiding was impossible. Security Services would tear the ship apart to find him. 

 Above him, he could hear the pounding of boots and panicked. Shunning the antigrav lifts, he found the maintenance ladder and scrambled to the lowest level. There was a way out along the water course.  He had to get to the cargo bay and out.  At the bottom of the ladder, he spun in a circle in confusion.  Which way?  He never supervised the actual loading or unloading of cargo.  In fact, when he bothered to accompany a shipment, he never left his private suite.

 The lighting was minimal, and he had no idea where the control panels were down here.  He felt along in the general direction of the transport's exterior wall. The sounds of pursuit above him were getting louder and closer.  He had to get out.  In the dim light, he could just make out the outlines of the loading bay door, and rushed forward, only to have some unseen object tangle about his feet.  He went down hard, grunting in pain.

 He tore at the offending objects and then stopped, realizing what he held in his hands.  He sank to the floor in despair.  The lights flared on, and Ventriss could see clearly what he already knew. His legs were hopelessly tangled in a Seneschal's cloak.  Gresham's insignia of office lay discarded on the floor, along with his House Ventriss ID chips. As he lifted the folds, a mangled vid card dropped to the floor. 

 "Noooo …" Ventriss whimpered. The vid card activated the exterior panels.  Knowleton hadn't just abandoned him.  As a final act, his Seneschal - his trusted - had disabled the only remaining means of escape.

&&&&&

"You said James was at the controls?" Lord William asked. 

"Look at that descent angle, Father, and the speed."  Steven's eyes left the incoming transport long enough to smile at his parent. "You always said your eldest was a terror from the moment he sat on his first flitter as a child."

"Little did I know," William grumbled. "I never should have allowed them on the estate."  The Security teams were streaming out of the landing bay, congratulating each other as they emerged.  "They must have Ventriss in custody.  Steven, I must speak with James, privately.  Will you help me?"

Steven couldn't help but gape at the request. "Are you serious, Father? You heard the transmission from the medical team at the safe house.  Naomi Sandburg is on the verge of consciousness, and she's not going to survive. Do you really think Jim will stop for a chat rather than get his guide back to her side?"

"When have I ever made a frivolous request?" William said coldly. 

"Frivolous or selfish?"  Steven paused, pulling them back a few steps as the transport spiraled in to land.  "Are you asking me as a son or as a Seneschal?"

"First and foremost, as a son. A son who gave me advice a day ago I don't dare ignore.  You were right, Steven, and I've acted on what you had the courage to say.  It's all for naught if I can't convince James that there is a way forward."

"And this has to happen now?"

"Now," William said firmly. "Now, or forever lose the opportunity.  Don't fail me, Steven. For the sake of the House, and your brother."

Steven could only shake his head.  Leave it to his father to request the impossible at the worst possible moment.  The Security Services transport had barely touched down when a man Steven recognized as S.I. Brown was out the main hatch.  "Where's Banks?" he asked, clearly in a hurry.

Steven pointed in the direction of the open smuggling bay. "Probably there. He and Taggert went down with a horde to take Ventriss into custody."

Brown took off at a run, calling out orders as he went. A ring of armed Security Officers gathered around the perimeter of the transport, discharge weapons at the ready. The larger loading panels slid back, and Rafe appeared, herding a motley group, all in standard prisoner restraints.

Steven picked a face out of the group. "By the ancestors, that's Lynch Gentry.  I recognize him from the vids I saw at Major Incident."  Steven watched his father's face and realized this was not news to the Head of House Ellison.  Interesting. "Apparently, you know that."

"I know of him, Steven.  Would you have me ignorant of what happens in the Boundary? How many times have the Landed Houses been threatened by that rabble over the years?  Of course I know who Gentry is."

Gresham Knowleton was the next to step down. He cast a despairing glance at Steven, and then looked at the ground, every inch the image of a broken man. Jim came next, extending a hand toward to a older woman.  So this must be Willa Gentry. 

Sandburg was the last to emerge.  To Steven's eye, he looked ashen.  He could tell Sandburg registered the presence of Lord Ellison before turning his attention to the open landing bay.  Steven stepped forward to greet them.  He was just in time to steady Blair when his knees buckled. "Jim, he needs to rest."

"I know," Jim said, wrapping an arm around Sandburg.  "I can't deny him this.  Mistress Gentry, this is my brother.  Steven, if you will? At least until we arrange an escort for her."

"Of course."  The two men set off at a slow pace toward the open bay. Sandburg looked decidedly unsteady, but Jim was correct.  If anyone deserved to watch Norman Ventriss taken to face Justice, it was Blair Sandburg. Steven offered his arm to Willa Gentry and followed, leaving enough space to afford them some privacy and still hear snippets of conversation.

&&&&&

Thompson Ritchie knew the strengths of his supervisor, and also her weakness. 

The Sandburg Prosecution, as it was now referred to, was spiraling into at least ten different directions. Although Prosecutor Sanchez would love to take all of them through Proceedings, and ultimately to Punishment, there was no way one individual could handle the work load. The Province had promised support, but individuals like Connal Plummer and Garrett Kincaid couldn't be trusted to just anyone.  Even the less critical detainees, because of their notable connections within the Province, would be challenging. 

Privy to his supervisor's thoughts, he knew she'd been skeptical, and cautious, when Major Incident initially presented the tangle of illegal activity associated with Blair Sandburg. The vids of Naomi Sandburg had been transformational.  Beverly's outrage created a strong emotional commitment.  She would drive herself beyond reasonable limits until capable hands were in place, which led directly to her most notable weakness.

If she was going to eat or rest in the short term, it would be up to Ritchie to manage it.

With care, he checked the tray just delivered from Commissary Services.  On a normal day, fresh fruit and a pastry was Sanchez' stated preference. For the next few weeks, that would not be sufficient.  Taking a spoon, he sampled the contents of a tall, frosty glass.  Perfect.  Notes of tropical fruit disguised the actual high nutrient and calorie value. Slices of cheese were layered on a small plate, along with slices of protein supplement that was almost indistinguishable from the finest chocolate.  Now all he had to do was get her to down the offerings, even if she chose to work through the meal.

Satisfied, he opened the doors which separated their working suites and entered.  The main viewer revealed that Beverly was engaged in joint conference with the evidence teams and two other senior Provincial Justice personnel. He paused, and she waved him forward. Clearing an area at her elbow, he silently put items within her reach, tapping the glass gently for emphasis.

He was organizing a stack of vid chips according to her silent directions when his wrist alarm indicated that someone had entered the outer reception suite.  Ritchie tapped his wrist to alert her, and left to investigate. He knew Beverly's schedule inside and out, and had personally cleared her calendar because of the current craziness. The Admissions Officers on duty knew that, too.  So who had managed to talk their way in?

Ritchie went from surprise to anger in one heartbeat once he saw who was lounging in one of the comfortable chairs.  Beverly despised the man personally, and his professional conduct was lacking. "Advocate Nanda, Citizen Kincaid's hearing request has been processed according to Provincial Justice procedures.  You know it's completely inappropriate for you to be here.  Leave at once before I contact Security and have you removed."

Nanda made no move to leave. "Oh, she'll see me," he said, radiating the insolence that Beverly found so intolerable.

Ritchie didn't have the patience for verbal debate, and courtesy was wasted on a creature like Nanda. He was activating their direct access to the Security Suite, and the vid screen came to life. At least Security was prompt.

"Duty Officer Niskanen. Are you in difficulty, Specialist Ritchie?"

"Yes. I need an escort team to the office of Prosecutor Sanchez, Priority Two."

"At once, Specialist."

Nanda tossed a vid chip in Ritchie's direction.  He caught it on the fly. "What is this?"

"My filing. You'd better read it."

Ritchie scowled as he fitted the vid into the viewer.  "A moment, please, Officer."  His jaw dropped as he scanned through.  "Nanda, you're his advocate!  You can't volunteer evidence against Kincaid.  Don't waste our time, or jeopardize your Provincial Covenant to represent."

Nanda shrugged, displaying his trademark unctuous smile.  "Emergency Decree Four.  Check it yourself."

Ritchie frowned. E.D. Four would date back to one of the Provisional Acts of Emergency when the Province was just struggling out of chaos.  In his working career, he'd never seen or heard of an E.D. being invoked.  "You're abandoning a client you've represented for decades using an E.D.?  That's crazy even for you."

"Rare, but perfectly legal. Under statute, I'm doing my highest duty as a Citizen, informing on a past or imminent act of treason."

"It's in conflict with your vows as an Advocate."

"Not when Sanchez shields me as a Protected Citizen Witness.  For what I know, Justice will be falling all over itself to hand me the wrist bracelet. Now go get your boss."

&&&&&

The open landing bay yawned in front of them. So this was the final, desperate hiding place of Lord Norman.  Steven looked over Willa Gentry's head toward his father.  "New construction over an older site?"

Lord William nodded.  "Another violation, obviously.  New modifications in these areas are required to have Council of Lords approval."

Steven nodded, and bit back his next remark. Lord William wouldn't welcome any remarks concerning the multiple projects he himself conducted without Council of Lords approval.

Sandburg swayed unsteadily, and Jim took a half step to the side bracing Blair against his chest.  "Chief, take it easy."

"I want to kill him," Sandburg snarled. "I want to kill him with my bare hands."

"I know, Chief, but I need you too much to let you," Jim said.

"You need to be at your mother's side, Blair, not rotting in a detention cell,"  Steven said, joining them.  "Not that any thinking person would blame you for the way you feel." Even as he said the words, Steven knew they would bring no comfort to the anguished young man.

A small knot of Security Officer scrambled out of the bay, followed by Captains Taggert and Banks.  Ventriss was squashed between them, wrist and ankle restraints clearly visible. Ventriss saw Lord William and lurched forward.  "Lord William, I appeal to you.  Stop this outrage against House honor."

"House honor?  What do you know of honor?"  Steven stiffened, a reflex instilled in childhood.  He recognized the tone, and even now, as a grown man, was grateful his father's contempt was focused on another target.   Apparently, the Head of House Ellison wasn't finished.  "Captain Banks, Captain Taggert, with your permission."

Steven gaped.  A quick glance revealed Jim was equally shocked.  Neither expected their father to be so visible at the moment of detention.  The Houses did not conduct business of any sort in the presence of Citizens. Not only was it unprecedented, William had to be operating on the fly, since this encounter couldn't be more unplanned. That was Lord Ellison, wheels within wheels and plans within plans.

The attendant crowd grew silent.  Ordinary Citizens, even those elevated as Security Services, could go a lifetime without witnessing the hidden workings of the aristocracy. Steven was fascinated as well. He chanced a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that Kimiko and her father had stepped out of his flyer, and were watching intently.

Lord William stepped forward, and with a single finger pressed Norman Ventriss to his knees.  "I, Lord William Ellison, by order of the Council of Lords, under the direction of Presiding Officer Lord Martin Harcourt, inform you that House Ventriss has been broken.  The line of Ventriss is at an end." 

Ventriss visibly recoiled.  "For what?  For him?"  He pointed at Sandburg. "William! He's nothing!  He has no family, no heritage."

"Be silent!" roared Lord William. Ventriss quailed before him. "Citizens of Cascade, bear witness." Lord William cried, his voice ringing out, speaking to the gathered witnesses as well as dismissing any attempt to plead for mercy. His eyes swept the personnel who had pressed close to watch.  "The black seals have been attached to the House Ventriss Charter, and recorded in the Archives. The dolphin and running horse are no more."  He looked down at the man cowering before him.  His hand flashed out and ripped the Head of House device from the man's cloak. Steven watched in fascination as the jeweled crest was ground into the mud under his father's boot heel. "You will be forevermore be known as Citizen Norman.  Like your heirs and relatives, you will be assigned a new surname at the convenience of the Province. Your lands, your possessions and your funds are forfeit."

The crumpled figure that had once been Lord Norman Ventriss began to keen.  William struck him with the back of his hand and demanded silence.  "The dispensation of your detention and your punishment by the Provincial of Cascade are of no concern to the Council of Lords, or any House in Cascade.  Do you understand these directives?"

"I have a birthright!" Norman sobbed. "My House is of the Founding Fifty."

Lord William showed nothing but contempt. "I state for all generations to hear.  You have no House. You have no Family. You have nothing and you are no one. Officers of Cascade Province, dispose of him as you will." 

He turned his back to the former Lord, leaving him to the detention team.  "Captain Banks, as the representative of the Council of Lords and the Head of House Ellison, I would beg a moment of your time in private."

Steven's attention turned to Sandburg. What must he be thinking? His head was bowed, buried against Jim's shoulder.  Banks had passed along the sad news concerning Naomi Sandburg's deteriorating medical condition. Even watching Ventriss brought low couldn't change that sad reality.

Banks was in intense conversation with Lord William. Jim wordlessly passed Blair to Steven and joined them.  Surely they would need to leave immediately to attend Naomi Sandburg.  If he could only make certain that Jim knew of their father's request, at least he would have honored Lord William's appeal.

The detention team dragged Norman to his feet and started to lead him away.  "She doesn't have to die, you know," Ventriss-now-Norman taunted.  "I could save her."

Everyone froze.

Steven had a bare fraction of a second before he was keeping Sandburg on his feet.  Willa Gentry appeared from behind them and grabbed the young man about his waist, doing what she could.  Jim was going after Ventriss with murder in his eyes.  Taggert managed to stop him just short of his goal.

"What did you say?" Jim snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

Ventriss-now-Norman's eyes were crazed, his face twitching. Steven flashed back to a long forgotten memory of Alicia when her madness was first revealing itself. The whole line must be genetically flawed.  "How do you think I kept that worthless bitch alive so long?  I cloned her."  His voice lifted to a taunting scream.  "I cloned every organ.  You hear me, Blair? You hear me?" 

The unthinkable, the technology that had created the great plagues. Banned on every continent after the grotesque results nearly brought civilization to its knees during the Twenty First Century.  No wonder the medical procedures had failed.  Even Jim, hardened Military and Security officer, took a step back in horror. Willa Gentry whispered an anguished, "No.  Be there mercy." Blair sagged against Steven.

After the moment of shock came action. Jim leaped forward, raising his fist to strike what would probably be a killing blow.  Taggert was closer and blocked Jim's headlong rush.  He slapped Ventriss-now-Norman so hard the man crumpled to the ground. "Get this filth out of here," he growled.

Ventriss-now-Norman wasn't done.  He pushed up on his elbows.  "James here can claim House Privilege." His eyes gleamed with malicious hate. "A trade. I and my House go free. Naomi lives.  The connections are mine.  I have her original cells.  I'm the only one who can do it."

Jim looked back at Sandburg, his face stricken. Blair was already shaking his head, tears coursing down his face, his voice an agonized, hoarse whisper. "No - she would never - no. No."

In one astonishingly fast move, Jim swept the Norman's arms from under him.  His foot pressed the offending face into the ground.  "Lock him up.  Lock him up before I end this, once and for all."

&&&&&

Steven shifted his position, trying to block out some of the noise that echoed through the Security Services safe house.  "Please, Jim, don't be so hard on yourself.  He doesn't blame you.  He doesn't blame me, either, and by the ancestors, he'd have cause."  Jim's expression remained bleak, his vigilance unchanged. "I'm your brother, and I'm on your side.  You don't have to do this alone.  Try to relax a little."

Jim slumped slightly against his brother, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against his own. Steven was doing his best, and for that Jim was grateful.  Jim stared at the closed doors of the medical suite as if he could see through them. Not that he needed vision to interpret the final sorrow that surrounded Naomi Sandburg.  "I don't know, Steven.  How will Blair feel when she's gone, after all this agony? You saw them together - how he grieves for her.  She's his mother, his only family."

"The only reason she's not still a pawn for Ventriss is you and Major Incident," Steven said. "Blair knows who set them free. You're not the villain here."

"Too little, too late. Our legacy is to use the position we inherit to exploit the vulnerable.  It hasn't changed, and it never will.  Sandburg should blame anyone born under a family crest, including both of us," Jim said bitterly. 

Steven patted Jim's knee gently. "Which means Blair Sandburg's a better man.  We'll make it our goal to honor his ability to forgive."  He paused, watching the knot of officialdom in the main area of the safe house. "How much trouble do you think you're in?"

Jim glanced over Steven's shoulder at the main reception area, currently clogged with Cascade Province officials.  The Ellison brothers were seated side by side, keeping vigil just outside the medical suite where Naomi Sandburg would soon take her final breath.  Blair was finally alone with his mother, with a single House Ellison physician hovering on the periphery.  Jim bristled at the thought.  As far as he was concerned, Senior Medic Lamanna was just a ploy in Lord William's end game.

With effort, he chided himself to let it go.  For now, a non-official physician suited him.  He needed someone to attend Naomi after he'd tossed every last soul from the suite, preventing the assorted Provincial entities from completely overriding the Sandburg's final moments. In the process, he'd incurred the ire of just about everyone else with a stake in Naomi Sandburg's final testimony. Jim huffed softly. "Sanchez and Provincial Justice will be first in line.  They could file charges."  He gave Steven a rueful glance.  "I could be in need of a new career.  Maybe you can hire me as your pilot."

"Now there's a frightening thought.  I'd live in daily terror," Steven scoffed.  "Besides, let her try.  Sanchez will come to her senses.  The poor woman answered every question for nearly two hours.  What else could they possibly need to know?"

"Not to mention that S.I. Brown is mining Gentry like the mother lode," Jim said. "Or what Connor found in the records from Rainier or the Guide Institute, and the fact that Minister Stoddard will stand for Prosecution."

"Exactly," Steven said, determined to lighten Jim's mood.  "All Sanchez really wants is a successful case against Ventriss.  A panel of Citizen Adjudicators would convict on a fraction of that testimony. Naomi Sandburg's final declaration is the emotional pièce de résistance. Sanchez is not used to being overruled, but she'll get over it."

"Ventriss and anyone associated with him will never spend another day free, and even that doesn't seem like sufficient justice."  Jim rubbed fretfully at his temple.  "Sanchez will still have my head, Steven.  It's an issue of protocol.  I was way out of bounds.  There are consequences when you defy the chain of command, even in a good cause."

"Really? Just because you picked her up and bodily carried her out of the medical suite?"  Steven couldn't quite keep the amusement out of his voice. "I'm sure all those medics and Provincial Law and Justice gnomes didn't really think you were going to break their legs if they didn't leave.  That was all just advisory."

"It's not funny, Steven," Jim said darkly, even though a smile twitched at the edge of his mouth.

"Well, pulling your discharge weapon might have been a bit much."

"Another act of poor judgement.  Banks could put me on suspension.  Not that I wouldn't do it over again the same way.  Blair deserves this time.  They both do."

"Exactly my point. Besides, you're not the only House Ellison member Prosecutor Sanchez and Banks will have to deal with. Our dear Father will eat them both like a breakfast snack." Steven observed. "Do you forgive me? I know the timing was horrible, but Father was insistent.  I think - I want to believe he is sincere, that he's seen the validity of what we proposed."

"He'll have to do more than speak a few conciliatory words in a crisis," Jim said skeptically.   "You know him, Steven. There's always another layer, no matter how it seems."

"He said all the right things," Steven said.  "Committing House Ellison and the Council of Lords to full restoration for Blair and his mother was a total reversal of position, and he did it publicly.  Tell me the last time something like that's happened."

"I can't, which is why I reserve judgement."  Jim closed his eyes as yet another wave of pain squeezed against his temples. He fought against the overwhelming urge to appeal to Blair for relief, and that was out of the question. He tried to concentrate on the conversation with his brother, willing the pain to recede like the ocean retreating down the beach.  "Do you really think Lord William Ellison would place his role as a father above his role as a Head of House?  I don't trust him, Steven. He has his own agenda, as always."

"You know you have my support, but no one can move the stars in the firmament like Lord Ellison. Take advantage while it suits you. Will you accept his offer for House Ellison to function as Naomi's Exequial Agent?  At least for now?" Steven asked cautiously

"Yes, considering the burden it spares Blair.  That's the only reason a House Ellison medic is still in there."  Jim sighed.  Blair's level of anguish, and his fragile medical condition, was justification enough. "Whatever else he has up his sleeve, even Lord William wouldn't play false with an end of life ritual. He'd shame the House for a generation. Beyond that, we'll see."

Steven felt his brother shudder, and tighten his fists until the knuckles turned white. "Are you in pain, Jim? Shall I get one of those medics back? There's a small detachment milling around this place."

Jim winced, again resisting the temptation to intrude on Blair.  "They're worse than a pack of jackals." He took a shaky breath and let it out slowly.  "The headache is worse. Blair would know what to do, but I just can't ask.  Not while she's alive and still with him."  He shuddered and pressed the heels of his hands against his temples as another surge of pain built. "Is the Guide Specialist still here?"

"Specialist Snow?" Steven asked, remembering the young woman who had hovered over Blair on their arrival.  "The one who attended to Blair?  I think so."

"The Guide Specialists usually carry damper medications for sentinels as well, just in case. She's ex-military, and she'll understand.  She won't make a fuss, and I can avoid having another session with every Sentinel authority in the Province."

"I'm on it. Don't move from this spot."

Steven had just rounded the corner when he nearly collided with Captain Banks.  The man looked none too pleased.

"Where do you think you're going?" Banks demanded.  "Damn!  Security for this place is a joke."

"Relax, Captain. I wasn't making a break for the outside world.  I'm a House Seneschal. I understand those security restrictions better than you think.  At the moment, I'm on a small errand for Jim," Steven said.  Maybe wandering off, even at Jim's request, wasn't the best idea. Jim was correct about his standing with his superior.  Banks looked seriously angry.  

"What's Jim up to now?" Banks said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  "Do we need to round up some more Provincial Officers for him to provoke?  Maybe I can get Governor Thorneville in here so he can insult him, too."

"I don't think that's the plan, Captain," Steven said. Steven glanced back at his brother, who had curled in on himself.  Obviously, Jim's condition was worse than he'd like to admit.  What he needed was a quick diversion.  The last thing his brother needed was another confrontation with his commanding officer.  "Actually, Captain, I think Jim is having sentinel difficulties. He was asking for Specialist Snow. Something about damper drugs." He paused for effect. "Perhaps you could postpone that dressing down you were planning for my brother and give me a hand. You have a little more clout in these situations than I do."

"How bad is he?" Banks asked, still glowering but with concern in his voice, much to Steven's relief.

"Bad enough to ask me for help. After the last forty-eight hours, what do you think?"

"I'd get Sandburg, but that's out of the question."  Banks glared darkly in the direction of the medical suite, and seemed to change his mind.  "As if I don't have enough sentinel-related issues as it is.  I can chew Jim out later.  Will you stay with him and I'll get Specialist Snow."

Steven nodded his agreement, and made a quick check of the situation.  Sanchez and her staff appeared to be staging an imminent departure. That was excellent news. Fewer people and conversation would thin the noise and confusion level back to a minimum.  Sanchez still looked ready to rip someone's throat out, but Steven was confident her ire would mellow once she analyzed the weight of material she had to support her prosecutions.  Perhaps a delivery of a fine bottle from House Ellison's eastern vineyards and a congratulatory note would redirect her thoughts toward legal victory rather than retribution against S.S.I. Ellison.

The medical personnel provided by Security Services stood in a quiet knot on the far side of the room. Down to the lowest tech, they looked completely demoralized.  Steven had thanked them on behalf of House Ellison and his brother, but nothing could really assuage such a bitter defeat.  Microsurgeon Marjorie Lake was particularly devastated when the truth had been relayed to the medical suite.  They'd done everything imaginable to restore Naomi Sandburg, only to have every hope dashed.  Clonal manipulation fundamentally changed cell structure. All of their efforts had been crippled from the very start.  Unless they had access to Naomi Sandburg's original cell line, there was no hope. Even so, for a dedicated specialist like Lake, an explanation was cold comfort for failure. Damn Lord Ventriss. No punishment would be too extreme.

Steven sighed in relief when Specialist Snow came flying around the corner, her carry bag of medical supplies banging against her hip as she ran.  Steve waved her by, but stepped abruptly in front of Captain Banks.

It was time to start thinking like a seneschal and work in his brother's interests.

&&&&&

"Lord Ellison, I have your formal regalia ready for your selection."  Dylan McCabe stepped back, his hands clasped at the small of his back, waiting for his employer to sweep into the room. His professional calm barely held. Lord William was quicksilver in the best of times, and this was not the best of times.  Head of House Ellison had been on a tear since he'd rushed off to attend the wayward elder son when he'd fallen ill.  McCabe had no intention of becoming a target for his excess energy. Definitely a time to attend to each and every detail.

He'd laid the likely choices out in sequence from the relatively plain version worked in wool, generally used for staff audiences or outdoor occasions, to the most elaborate silk velvet trimmed in ermine, which nearly swept the floor and had the crest worked in crystals and gems.  Of the nine choices, McCabe could have probably eliminated the latter.  It was reserved for Head of House Investitures, funerals or momentous occasions like the joining of Heir and Consort.  McCabe only included it for the sake of form. Besides, Lord William kept his own counsel concerning his intentions.  In his position, dress conveyed messages best left unspoken.

Lord William sailed into the suite with his customary blend of brisk intensity, then abruptly stilled, taking his time, considering each offering in turn.  Clearly, this appearance with the Governor Thorneville was a serious undertaking.  "Excellent work, McCabe, considering I gave you very short notice."

"Thank you, Lord Ellison. The wardrobe staff gave their best." McCabe willed himself to stillness.

Lord William stepped back and tipped his chin, a characteristic gesture that presaged a imminent decision. "The Governor and I are appealing to the Citizens of Cascade in the spirit of common interest and shared values. Two rogue Heads of House are an affront to the Province.  They must believe the sincerity of the our repudiation."  He studied the choices again, and murmured under his breath, "Elite, apart, but of one accord."

McCabe could tell when the choice was made.  "I believe the ermine choices, while impressive, would set the wrong tone." Lord William moved along the other offerings, viewing each in turn.  "The wool are not impressive enough, particularly  for vid broadcast.  This one," Lord William said, gesturing to the three-quarter velvet, red and accented with gold.

"Excellent, Lord Ellison. The embroidery on that particular crest is exceptional.  It should be quite distinctive in vid.  I will complete the final preparation.  May I suggest that I also send the matching tunic, in case a last minute change is required."

"Excellent suggestion."

"I've sent for a light supper, in case you wish to relax before dressing and departure. I'll alert your transport and security."

Lord William nodded, but by his demeanor, had moved to the next item on his agenda. "Has Valet Andrews returned with Security Captain Costello?" he asked sharply.

McCabe stiffened. He privately dreaded the appearance of Costello.  The second in command for House of Lords Security was a foreboding presence. "Andrews and the Captain just signaled their final approach, Lord William."

"Send Costello up the moment they arrive.  Time is short. And McCabe, I want to see him in complete privacy.  No nearby staff, no interruptions. Make the arrangements."

Lord William retired to his private quarters.  McCabe sighed in relief. Before dealing with the clothing, he would warn the staff.  A breach of Lord William's consultations with Costello was another mistake he didn't intend to make.

&&&&&

"Oh, sweetie. Are you sure they can't hurt you anymore?"  Naomi's trembling hand traced a line along Blair's jaw. 

Blair looked up anxiously at the House Ellison Senior Medic.  The gray-haired man nodded and motioned for Blair to continue what had become a litany for the last hour.  Naomi continued to ask this question over and over.  If left unanswered or merely deflected, she fretted, working herself into panic, creating more pain and distress.  Medic Lamanna had explained in hushed tones that Naomi's faltering lungs and degenerating body systems were creating concentration and memory deficiencies.  She asked because she needed to. 

"Ma, he's in detention. I saw it myself. Led off in restraints. Bradley is in detention right along with him."  Blair stilled her restless hand in his own, wishing he could relieve her fears. He brushed his lips against her finger tips, inwardly cringing at the bluish tinge beneath her nails. Her hands were growing colder. His eyes flicked upwards to the vid screens.  Most of them were incomprehensible, but he could follow the faltering heartbeat and feel the ragged effort of each breath. 

Medic Lamanna silently mouthed the words, "Soon."  In silence, Blair's own soul cried out against the looming loss.

Naomi's eyes drifted shut and then fluttered open.  "When I get better, I'll ask Lady Elizabeth about a trip to the garden. We can go - is it spring, Sweetie?""

"Of course we'll go. The primroses will bloom soon." A lie, but it hardly mattered. No matter that Naomi had given testimony just hours ago about Lady Elizabeth's murder, or the sabotage to the transport that was intended to kill them both, or that blooming primroses were months away.  More important that Naomi's mind's eye was fastened on the beautiful, the peaceful, the things she loved.

"Will your Sentinel come? Who …"

"James. His name is James. He's a good person." Blair's voice caught in his throat. "Handsome enough for you to flirt with, Naomi.  We'll have bread, and cheese…"

"Strawberries. When you were little -"

"I called them 'sawberries', and you'd laugh.  Things will be just like they used to be.  We'll go on trips, and meet new people, just the way you like."   Blair choked, as each breath was slower than the last.

Naomi frowned in confusion. "But Rainier - you study -"

"I'm all done at Rainier. We'll go to the ocean, too. Watch the sun." Blair brushed her hair, the vivid auburn now tinged with gray and thin. "You always said the waves were earth's song to the universe."  A warning chime sounded, haunting and insistent.  Blair didn't need an explanation from the medical professional in the room. "I love you, Naomi. It's all right to go. Everything will be fine." Blair stroked his mother's face, blinded by tears.  He cupped her cool cheeks in both hands as her eyes drifted closed - for the last time.

Blair never saw Senior Medic Lamanna's expression go hard, or the complicated pulse of medications he delivered while Blair pressed a kiss against his mother's brow.

&&&&&

Lord William moved restlessly about the reception suite.  By design and opportunity, his plans were moving forward.  William leaned heavily against his work station, braced against straightened arms.  He'd enjoyed virtually no rest since he'd gone to Jim's bedside to remove that bereft Sandburg creature and deal with the crises created by Ventriss and Plummer.  By the ancestors, how had breeding failed so miserably in those two lines?

With a heavy sigh, William refused himself the comfort of melting into his favorite chair. He'd ascended to Head of House as a young man, and had learned a bitter lesson early after assuming his responsibilities; a failed plan was simply the foundation for a better one, if one had the energy, the wits and the courage to grasp the opportunity. He was feeling his age, but he would persevere.  This was a sprint to the finish. 

His failure to remove Sandburg was a profound regret, as was the defiance of his sons. He'd handled that encounter badly, and so he was clawing his way back.  Beyond all other desires, he wished to preserve his House for the next generation, and for that he needed both his sons.  His redemption lay in swallowing his pride and accepting the possibilities his wayward offspring had brought.  He'd realized his error, and taken great risks on short notice.

House Plummer counted as a victory.  Philip would do well, and Carolyn - well, Carolyn would never complicate James' life further. Nor was she now able to reveal his own attempt to further her plans to snatch Sandburg. Two blessed birds with one stone. Steven's choice of consort, Kimiko Akiyama, was a timely boon.  At least he hadn't missed that one.  Steven had a fine consort-to-be, and with Kaoro Akiyama he would reorient the Council of Lords before the others realized what was happening.  Again - two birds, one stone.  Steven was mollified, had his chosen and was willing to return to the fold.  House Ellison gained a lasting, vigorous, and forward-thinking ally, just what he needed in the difficult times to come.

The public confrontation with Ventriss was a strategic move, and fulfilled his purposes - at least in part. The Houses could survive a cancer like Ventriss only by making him a pariah, with visible and severe punishment. The assembled Security Services personnel who had witnessed the Breaking of House Ventriss would repeat versions of what they had seen.  Such gossip would run like wildfire through the Province, and shape the reception of his planned pronouncements with the Governor. 

The performance had an added benefit.  Any thoughts Lord Harcourt may have had about appearing with Governor Thorneville had vanished. Presiding Officer he may be, but he lacked the confidence to speak outside the safe confines of his peers, where the response could be determined by protocol and courtesy. In a panic, the fool had agreed to clear the field.  Before the Province, House Ellison would be the sole Council of Lords representative with Governor Thorneville.  Harcourt might hold the office, but William Ellison would hold sway with his fellow aristocrats, and the Provincial Officers who were necessary tools. When the shock of his intentions rolled over them, they would not challenge.

James, as always, was the problem. The public denunciation of Ventriss bought him a scant opening with his estranged son.  Jim had conditionally  accepted House Ellison as Naomi Sandburg's Exequial Agent.  It was a peace offering to James and Sandburg, although Jim clearly suspected his motivation.  

Regrettably, his son was correct, not that William planned to confess the truth.  For his plans to move forward, it was imperative to install Senior Medic Lamanna as part of Naomi Sandburg's medical team. Long and bitter negotiation between father and son had been required.  William had run the risk of alienating James altogether. As with all endeavors, a great risk was worthy of the potential outcome.

Lamanna had his orders, and was a faithful servant of the House.  If Costello did his part, William would have the leverage he needed to manipulate Blair Sandburg, and through him, James, for as long as was necessary.

&&&&&

"Damn you, Ellison, you're the worst patient on the planet," muttered Specialist Snow. "Possibly in the known universe. Guide Sonya Kim is going to have me doing screening exams with toddlers.  You have no idea."

"Who says she finds out?" whispered Jim.  His head ached fiercely, but whatever Snow had administered was helping.  "Our secret."

"Boy, you have a lot to learn," Snow said.  "No one outfoxes that Sentinel and Guide pair.  Winter is Commandant of Cascade for a reason." Specialist Snow sealed four dermal patches into a plastoseal envelope.  "You can use a new one every three hours.  After that you'd better be ready to follow medical directives. How do you feel now?"

"Like recycler leavings, but at least my skull won't explode."

"Well, don't let that fool you.  Every metabolic reading I can get says you're flirting with systemic reaction.  A sentinel ignores his body and bad things happen." Snow looked apprehensively toward the medical suite.  "I overheard it's close.  I am sorry for his loss."

Jim nodded, silent. He couldn't bring himself to speak about that pain to come.

"Well, you got this deal because of Blair," Snow said, packing her sensor equipment back into her carrybag.  "You're a new pairing, but he's fragile and now you're all he's got."

Jim nodded again. Snow seemed to understand that it was just too much effort to talk.

Snow touched his arm, and very deliberately made a visual sweep of the main area of the safe house. Sanchez and her Provincial Law and Justice team had left.  The medical teams were organizing to leave as well.  Soon it would be Daryl Banks, still on special assignment, a few security guards, and Major Incident personnel.  Fewer people meant less interference, but Snow still looked apprehensive. She lowered her voice to a bare whisper. "Be warned. If things go badly, they might try to split you up.  It would be temporary respite, but don't do it."

"Blair's my Guide. We've pledged free intent."

Snow slung her carrybag over her shoulder and stood.  "Don't be naive, Ellison.  Winter and Kim like both of you, but Guide Services as an institution doesn't like to be made out as corrupt idiots.  There will be pushback.  Start watching out for your body, and your Guide's, or you'll give them the opportunity they're hoping for."

&&&&&

Kimiko Akiyama brought Steven Ellison's transport to a careful, precise landing.  The vessel was a bit intimidating to fly, and she wanted to return it in pristine condition.  When the landing clamps coupled, she released a soft sigh of relief.

"Very nice, Daughter of my House.  I'm sure you had no concern taking the transport controls.  No pressure at all."  Kaoro Akiyama smirked mischievously.

"Father, you're incorrigible."  Kimiko deactivated the seat restraints.  "I'm a perfectly capable transport pilot.  Steven's flyer is just a bit singular, shall we say. "

"Far be it for me to imply otherwise.  Here I am, a good father, chastised for giving praise."

"Enough," Kimiko said, rising and taking the opportunity to stretch.  "I'm tired and I admit it."

Father and daughter crossed from the Akiyama landing dock to the gardens, heading for the house. They were greeted with tea, tamagoyaki, and an enthusiastic welcome.  Kimiko nibbled at the subtly sweet rolled omelette and gently deflected her mother's invitation to discuss any plans for the customary events that heralded the selection of Consort to House Heir.  "Mother, this can wait a few hours.  Steven is with his brother, and I need a nap."

Her mother was gracious in defeat. Kimiko kissed her cheek. "I promise you will have my full attention as soon as I've spoken with Steven." She bowed to both parents and excused herself.  Although she had her own quarters in Cascade proper, her parents insisted on keeping a suite for her use.  At the time, Kimiko had viewed it as an unnecessary attempt to constrain her independent nature. Over the years, she'd appreciated the convenience of having a private place, complete with wardrobe choices, both at home and in the city.

An interlude in the soaking tub seemed irresistible, but Kimiko shoved the impulse aside. She didn't want to be resting when Steven contacted her.  She slipped into a loose silk wrap and pants, and left her feet bare.  It was a great relief to stretch out and relax. Her eyes had just started to drift shut when she was a alerted by a soft tap at her exterior door. She activated the lock. If her mother had yielded to temptation, she could hardly scold her.  The betrothal of the eldest child and daughter was a momentous occasion in the life of a House.

She sat up in surprise when her father slipped in.  "Stay, Kimiko. I'll only be a moment."

Kimiko nodded. Her father's expression was grave, and her heart began to pound.  Could something have gone wrong with the negotiations?  All her hopes dashed?

"I can see your worry, child," Kaoro said.  He settled on a low bench and took her hand.  "You are an astute young woman.  I trust you with my concerns."

"Yes, Father?"

"Lord William is a crafty, skilled thinker.  You and Steven have given him an opportunity, which he has taken.  Steven is likely to be unaware of the details of his proposal to House Akiyama."

"So there is a problem," Kimiko said.  She tried to keep her voice level and calm.

"Not a problem, but, as I said, a concern.  William Ellison is presently nurturing many intertwined plans.  He sees many pawns for his use.  We must approach the future with this in mind."

"How would you counsel me, Father?"

"You are fortunate, child. Under normal circumstances, you and Steven might have faced substantial objections from Lord William. Circumstances have forced his hand. For good or ill, the Province is under great strain.  Change is ahead of us. William Ellison wants to direct that change, and ride the crest of the wave."  He paused for a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts.  "In return for my daughter, the negotiations have included an arrangement for House Akiyama to fill the vacuum created by the reorganization of House Plummer and the breaking of House Ventriss. Before you are formally declared consort, House Akiyama will be elevated as a member of the Council of Lords."

"Father! My congratulations."

Lord Kaoro shrugged. "This is a sleight of hand, while all eyes are focused in another direction."

"But not undeserved," Kimiko protested.  "What is the form of this misdirection?"

"Ah, Kimiko, you come to the heart of it, and so quickly.  A new house will be formed, to be announced by Lord William when he stands with the Governor."

"Do you know who shall be chosen?" Kimiko asked.

Kaoro shook his head. "Nor does Steven, or the other members of the Council.  In the midst of the current crisis, they have apparently trusted the selection to his judgement, and the assurance that the Governor is in full approval. Because of the secrecy, and the tone of our negotiations, I suspect Lord William's choice will shock both the Aristocracy and the Province.  I tell you only so you can be aware of danger if it comes. Never forget that you and Steven are pieces in a larger game."

Kimiko smiled. "I believe Lord William is a serious student of chess.  I place my faith in you, a master of the _goban_ board.  You will be his equal, Father."

"I shall do my best for you, Kimiko."

"Should I tell Steven?"

"Yes, in strictest confidence."  Kaoro lifted her chin gently with a fingertip.  "I value Steven as an individual.  I will support your match even if Lord William attempts to modify the agreements we have reached.  In my eyes, Steven is your chosen, and you are his.  You should be wary, but also confident.  We shall keep this conversation private, between the three of us. Now rest, Kimiko, while you can. We must be both wise and bold."

And then he was gone, the suite entrance hissing as the lock closed behind him.  Kimiko stared at the clouds drifting over the garden until sleep finally came.

&&&&&

Captain Adrian Costello padded softly through the passages which led to Lord William's private suite, wishing he could invent some excuse for delay.  The Head of House Ellison might have passed the role of Presiding Officer of the Council to another, but he still wielded power when he saw fit, sometimes without the full knowledge of his fellow Council members. He respected Lord Ellison's political acumen, but even a brilliant mind made mistakes.  The current situation was becoming increasingly volatile, and Costello was wary of what might be requested of him next.

The privilege of being the private agent of House Ellison was substantial.  Costello's credit accounts certainly reflected that. Lord Ellison's generosity was compensation for the risk Costello incurred by being the hands and feet for that cunning mind.  Occasionally, the risk appeared higher than the reward.  Costello's apprehension had grown over the last two days. 

Lord Ellison was playing a dangerous game.  Secrecy as a means of protection only went so far.  Eventually, the other Houses would understand the full measure of Lord Ellison's machinations. Any ground swell of outrage could fall on the head of the officer who executed the Lord's wishes. The consequences were potentially severe.

Costello paused for a moment outside the entrance to Lord Ellison's inner sanctum.  He'd been sent ahead, without the benefit of an escort by the household staff.  His solitude could be interpreted as a measure of trust, but in this case, Costello had his doubts. Lord Ellison was increasing the level of secrecy around his actions, a clear indication that the Council of Lords had not been apprised of all his actions, nor would they be entirely pleased. As expected, a sensor beam appeared from above.  Rather than step back, he exposed the palms of both hands and remained motionless as the beam flashed across.  On the third pass, a concealed entrance opened with the whisper of a sigh.

Lord Ellison was seated, wrapped in a robe that could only be natural silk, nibbling on a piece of fruit. A pear, Costello realized. He had tasted one once, from Lord Ellison's table, as a matter of fact, in a rare moment of informality. Costello could almost imagine the buttery sweetness on his tongue.  This time, however, Lord Ellison was all business.  He waved Costello in.  Shunting aside all his apprehensions, Costello came within a few paces, stood at attention and extended formal courtesy. 

"Proceed, Captain. Be brief.  I must leave for Cascade soon, and your report is my highest priority."

Costello fought for his trademark professional blandness.  The thought of cutting a deal with Norman Ventriss made his stomach flip. Sitting in the man's presence, even in the Provincial Detentions Center, left him with a feeling of oily contamination.   "Citizen Norman has yielded, as you predicted, Lord Ellison."  Costello placed a vid chip in Ellison's hand. "I used full cloaking technology, as you stipulated."

"You're certain?"

How unlike Lord Ellison to ask. He was usually a better dissembler. "Yes, Lord Ellison. I confirmed that with my sources in Provincial Detention.  There is no record of our conversation.  You will find the results satisfactory."

Lord William fingered the vid chip, flipping it  end over end. "Spare my viewing pleasure. What do I hold here?"

"The name of the medical criminal who performed the cloning procedures on Naomi Sandburg."

"Did he explain his actions? Some justification?"

"He did, Early on, Naomi Sandburg nearly died during one particularly long torture sessions.  Citizen Norman didn't want to lose his lever over Blair Sandburg. He particularly wanted the guide's continued services with Alicia, as apparently he has some positive influence over her."

"I find that difficult to believe," William said, shaking his head.

"We can only judge from Citizen Norman's willingness to pursue this path.   Blair Sandburg would have resisted.  It must have been sheer torture for Sandburg, to interact with her after they'd severed."

"So Alicia is alive," Lord William said, every line of his frame radiating his rage. "That bastard. The Council gave Citizen Norman very specific parameters concerning Alicia.  He engaged in cloning, a crime against humanity at the same time he defied his peers. Is she under some sort of treatment regime, or warehoused?"

"Difficult to determine, Lord William.  I was, however, able to get a precise location.  Old Russia, in the territorial zones of the far north, as you suspected.  Under pressure, Citizen Norman finally admitted the same clinic does indeed hold unadulterated cells for Naomi Sandburg. I would not care to speculate what Citizen Norman expected to do with them."

"Nor do I, Captain Costello."  Ellison shook his head.  "It's been two centuries since we nearly exterminated ourselves with the viruses that came from cloning technology.  The man deserves extreme execution from that action alone."

Intuitively, Costello recognized the moment to test the waters.  "Would you like me to pursue an action against the cloner? The security of the Russian northland is highly porous.  I could arrange a penetration, if that is your wish."

Ellison was a superb negotiator, but everyone, even the best, had some small physical mannerism that betrayed them.  Costello watched Ellison's hands flex and then release.  "Absolutely not.  The problem of the cloner will be pursued with our peers in Scandia and Middle Europa at the highest level."  William spoke severely, and Costello had his answer.  Any plans Lord Ellison had for the cloner were too sensitive even for his pet Security Officer.  Costello nodded formally. Better to keep his intuitions private. Ellison did everything he could to dismiss the topic completely.  "Now, Captain, to the negotiations.  What did you have to promise Citizen Norman?"

Costello relaxed into parade rest to complete his report.  "In return for the information and his witnessed instruction to the cloner, his son will be released and retake the House, after an appropriate period of rehabilitation.  Citizen Norman will serve not more than five years detention, after which he will accept Council of Lords Confidential Clemency.  He will then be allowed to retire to property the House holds - held - in the Carib, with appropriate compensation and reasonable living expenses."

William grunted, but didn't seem displeased. "Clemency and a life of debauchery on the sands. You were suitably reluctant, Captain?"

"Pained in the extreme, Lord Ellison," Costello replied drily.  "I trust the terms I agreed to were not a surprise, Lord William."  He paused. If the lines were drawn as he suspected, Lord Ellison would now be less circumspect.  "Have you finalized your wishes in this matter?"

"Yes. Citizen Norman is nothing if not predictable, and we will proceed as we discussed.  He was not suspicious that he would be approached with a deal?"

"Not in the least. In fact, he suggested that an apology from the Council would be acceptable."

Lord William snorted in disbelief. "An apology? When entropy reverse collapses the universe.  Be that as it may. Initiate the security breach that will free Bradley.  You have sufficient personnel?"

Costello nodded. "Everything is arranged. He has been discreetly informed to the arrangements with his father, and the breach will be completely concealed from the staff of Provincial Detention.  My team will intercept and confine Citizen Bradley the moment he exits the Detention Center."  Costello smiled thinly.  "How sad. His dreams of restoration will only be minutes long.  A thoroughly disagreeable young man.  He was quite smug when informed of his father's efforts on his behalf.  It will be a pleasure to dash his hopes."

"You will complete his disappointment, Captain, exactly as we discussed. The details are important. Citizen Bradley will, in a moment of conscience, take his own life.  A vid acknowledging his guilt and shame would be a nice touch. Do what you must to secure it. He should be found very publicly."

"Of course. I have something suitably dramatic in mind.  Your timetable for his final appearance, Lord Ellison?"

"By the dawn's early light, Captain.  That flawed young man must not see another day, free or otherwise."  Lord William gazed at the ceiling and asked his next question. "You completed the arrangements for Citizen Norman?"

Costello allowed himself a small chuckle, since this was one part of Lord Ellison's plan that he agreed with completely. "Apparently Seneschal Gresham shut all systems down in the transport bay in the attempt to avoid detection.  The lack of creature comforts was quite shocking.  Citizen Norman was quite famished.  He accepted every last morsel and drop I offered him during our interview. I couldn't have done better if I'd stuffed it down his miserable throat."

"All of it? Excellent.  How soon, Captain?"

"Allowing for his genetic sensitivities, and the formulation of the time-release composition, his demise will take place during the night, sometime after two in the morning. Considering his gluttony, the hemorrhage will be massive and swift.  I did, however, take the liberty of disabling the cell monitors along with my other arrangements.  The detention personnel will be kept unaware after the cells are locked down in early evening."

Lord William raised an eyebrow. "Excellent. Not quite as satisfying as, say, a public beheading on the steps to the Hall of the Legislative Council in Citizen Square, with the entire population of Cascade in attendance. It might have been entertaining to use that damnable sonic cannon and blast both him and Plummer into molecular particles.  This will have to do.  The other options will remain fond fantasies." He stood.  "You have much to complete.  Don't fail me, Captain."

"Never, Lord Ellison. It is my pleasure to serve." With that, Costello disappeared as quietly as he had come.

&&&&&

Jim was on his feet the moment he heard Blair's anguish.  He surged to his feet, but didn't get far.  Blair stumbled from the medical suite and nearly collapsed into his arms.

"She's gone." That was all Blair managed before his knees gave way.  Lost in Jim's encircling arms, he softly keened his loss.

Every eye in the safe house turned toward their direction.

Steven, somehow, impossibly, knew what to do.  A few choice words and a path cleared before them.  When Blair faltered, Steven was by their side.  Their destination was the suite Sandburg had taken the day before. When Captain Banks intercepted them, he blocked the way, every inch the Seneschal he was. "Later Captain. This is a matter of House privilege. My brother and Guide Sandburg require seclusion."

Jim wasn't sure which was the bigger surprise; that Steven was so brazen, or that Simon Banks accepted the rebuff. He looked like a thundercloud, but let them pass.

Blair's living suite was quiet. Jim deliberately left the lights low. "Over there, Jim." Together they directed Blair toward the main seating area, specifically a lounge designed for comfort. Blair complied aimlessly, and Steven managed to stuff a few soft pillows behind him as he crumpled into a heap.

"Is he in shock?" Steven asked softly, looking back over his shoulder expectantly.

A wave of panic swept over Jim. What, he was supposed to do something with the damn senses?  Something useful? Blair's eyes were open and unseeing, his face pale and breaking out in beads of perspiration.  Of course he was in shock.  Wide-eyed, Jim managed to nod.

"Keep him up, Jim. Talk to him.  He needs fluids, something to eat.  I'll be right back."

And with that short declaration, they were alone.

_By the ancestors, how worthless could he be?_

Jim forced himself to move, settling tentatively on the cushions.  Sonya Kim was right after all.  He needed training. Sentinel and Guide were supposed to be mutual support, the whole greater than the parts, and here he didn't have a clue. Not a clue.  Sandburg had come to his rescue, working in unspeakable conditions with a total stranger.  Jim didn't have enough knowledge to reach his Guide in what had to be the darkest moment of his life.

_Get on with it, Ellison. You can't just stare like an idiot._

Tentatively, Jim scooted closer. Blair had curled inward on himself in his moment of misery, hands pulled up under his chin. Gently, Jim worked the nearest hand free, mimicking something Sandburg had done repeatedly. He opened Blair's palm carefully arranging the man's fingers, along with his own wrist.  Blair had done this so easily before, but overwhelmed with shattering grief, he was no help.  Clumsily, Jim worked from memory.  He wrapped the smaller wrist in his thumb and little finger, index and middle finger inside Blair's pulse point.

_I'm here, Chief. This is how it works, right? Come to me._

Jim gasped under a flood of sensation, momentarily overwhelmed.  How could you go from knowing nothing to knowing everything in moments? So this was Sentinel and Guide, the connection Blair had been accessing with no help from him, the unexplainable made clear. 

Jim made no effort to analyze the information.  General impression was sufficient.   He couldn't read Blair's mind, but he could read his body; the shallow breaths, the grinding fatigue and weakness, the edge of fever beginning to build again. The emotional and the physical worked in concert.  Blair Sandburg had reached his breaking point.

With a rush of recognition, Jim realized he might be ignorant and without training, but not stupid. A child could figure this out. He pulled Blair to rest against his chest. "Relax, Chief. Let it all go." Jim sighed in relief.  He could actually feel Blair's muscles release, the changes in blood flow and breath. This wasn't so hard if you weren't scared witless by your own abilities, held back by your own fears.

Jim didn't need to look to know Steven had returned.  Another revelation - he "knew" Steven, his scent, his signature, his presence. The coil of apprehension that had nearly strangled him since "Sentinel" became his reality released a bit more.  He could do this. He could actually use this.

Steven tore the seal off a plastotube and handed it over.  "Nutrient sol, warmed."  Jim grimaced, and Steven evidently guessed the reason.  "These aren't military issue, Jim.  It doesn't taste like liquid dirt."

It seemed inappropriate, but Jim snickered in spite of himself.  He had intimate memories of emergency rations that were worse than the condition they purported to cure.  "Here we go, Blair."  He coaxed swallow after swallow between Blair's dry lips, grateful for his feeble attempts to cooperate. 

Steven rolled up Blair's tunic sleeve and attached a series of dermal patches.  "Specialist Snow left these.  Antifungals, body temp modulators and a bunch of bio gibberish I didn't bother to understand.  Why second guess the expert?  Her vid notes said to reapply ever four hours, round the clock."  He smirked at his brother.  "She had some choice words about our proficiency. Something along the lines of, 'You brainless clods, pay attention and take care of my patient.' Not that I'm quoting, because I'm sure she wasn't including me."

"Right. My brother, Steven, the shining example. Hand me another one of these, will you?"

&&&&&

Banks folded his arms in disgust. Daryl fought against the smile that threatened to break through.  "I'm sure he didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Damn Aristos are all the same.  Of course he did!"

"Well, he did, but he's a Seneschal.  He's used to ordering people around.  You do the same thing. Occasionally." Daryl grinned cheekily in response to his father's disgusted glare.  "I don't think you should take it personally.  I'm sure he'll be properly apologetic if you call him on it."

"Last I checked, Ellison was under my command," Banks huffed indignantly.  "I should bust him down to monitoring the citizen trams."

"Isn't there some sort of regulation that comes into play?  Rules of conduct when your guide's whole family dies?" Daryl smiled hopefully.

Predictably, his father sighed, reevaluating the encounter.  "You're right.  Sandburg looked worse than he did last night.  If Jim's a little crazy, it's understandable."

"You want me to go back to Security Services with you?  Be your vid slave while you file all your reports?"

Banks wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders.  "Since when does an S.O. Second Tier volunteer for reports?"

"Since the Second Tier figured out he might not see his parent again for the foreseeable future."  

"You may be right. Somewhere in the depths of Security Support Services the clerks are inventing new forms.  This case has broken so many precedents, I'll never escape my vid station."

"So, the offer stands," Daryl said.  "It's the least I can do since you got me out of perimeter security on the Plummer estate. Fair's fair."

"Actually, I'd like you to stay.  Jim's comfortable around you, and so is Blair Sandburg.  Especially Sandburg."

"Dad, I saw how he lived. Authority, any authority, was nothing but bad news.  He's scared more than anything.  Imagine what it must have been like for him.  How can he trust us?  Any of us?"

Banks shrugged wearily. "You're probably right. In any case, I've notified your commander that we'll keep you on special assignment for a few more days. Besides, I need to leave the reports for later.  For some reason, a contingent from Security Services will appear with Governor Thorneville during his address to the Province.  I need time to get into my dress uniform."

"Ooh. Making the big time, Dad," Daryl teased.

Banks cuffed him playfully. "Watch your attitude, you insolent puppy, or I'll have you on the tram detail with Ellison."

Daryl held up his hands in mock surrender.  "Spare me. I take it back. Can I watch you on vid?"

"Of course you can. Until then, make yourself useful, and send me updates.  You watch, I'll spend several hours blending into the decorative vegetation on the platform while the Governor speaks.  Ancient knights in metal armor were more comfortable."

Daryl waved as his father disappeared into the shuttle bay, wondering idly, along with the rest of Cascade, what their Governor planned to tell them. 

&&&&&

Lord William examined his appearance in the holoreflector.  Thank you, Andrews.  You've seen to every last detail."

Andrews bowed formally. He was a quiet man, content to accept his employer's compliments in silence.  "The spare tunic is ready, Lord Ellison. Shall I have it sent ahead to your shuttle?"

"Yes. Notify my pilot. Have him ready for immediate departure."

Valet Andrews retreated, motioning the other attendants to do likewise.  It was customary for Lord Ellison to insist on a short period of solitude before a major event.  A vid address to the Province, under any circumstances, qualified as such.

Alone, William poured a measure of scotch, and lifted it in silent toast. _"To James. In the name of Vengeance for House Ellison, I deliver the enemies of your Guide._ " 

He sipped in satisfaction. He did not doubt Costello. To destroy the living remnants of House Ventriss was a service to Cascade, and he would suffer no regrets for the brutal tactics.  The damage done to the Houses by a prolonged Justice proceeding would be avoided.  More importantly, James would know.  They might never speak of it openly, but James would know in his gut that Ventriss father and son did not both pass into damnation by coincidence.  His gratitude would be grudging, but it was a start.

&&&&&

"I wish you could have known her, Jim.  She was so joyful. Vibrant."  Blair looked wistfully across the suite, focusing on nothing in particular. "And she was beautiful. You can't possibly know from what she was here - at the …"

"I could tell," Jim said, adding more of the tea to his empty mug.  Impulsively, he pressed the back of his hand against Blair's flushed cheekbone.  He realized that his guide was watching him very carefully, not offended, but watchful. "Your fever has dropped."

"Good. I hate being sick." Blair placed his fingertips over Jim's hand.  "This makes you uncomfortable, but it shouldn't.  Even as a new sentinel, you have the instincts.  This is a perfectly normal technique, not an intrusion."

Jim slipped his hand away. "Sorry, it's a little eerie, being able to just know things.  Or the - uh - groping another guy."  Jim winced.  "That didn't come out right."

Blair gave him a tired smile. "Don't worry. To a guide it makes perfect sense. It won't always seem strange, and is in no way inappropriate.  You - we - are just getting started."

They both fell silent; Blair in the agony of mourning, Jim in a fog of flustered confusion. "What happened, Blair? The drowning, I mean." The words were out of Jim's mouth before he realized.  Y _ou idiot. You ask that now?_ "Don't answer that. I'm sorry, it's not the time." He started to retreat, and Blair grabbed at his hands, pulling him back down.

"No, it's all right. It's a fair question, and you should know."  Tears pooled in Blair's eyes.  "Mom apologized at the end.  It wasn't her fault. Not really."

"I don't understand," Jim said.  "What could your mother have possibly had to do with it?

"It's complicated. One thing leads to another." Blair shifted restlessly. "Little decisions led to places no one wanted or intended to go."

Jim adjusted his position to see him better.  "Are you sure you can't rest?  We can talk later."

"No. Eventually, I need to tell you, and I certainly can't make this day any worse."  Blair struggled to speak, and then finally got his words out. "I was born in Cascade, which is why I have Citizenship, but we traveled a lot.  Mom always had another friend, or a friend of a friend, or an assignment.  She was a follower of Terra Natura.  Do you know the Credo?"

 _Terra Natura Credo? Are you kidding?_ But this was his guide, and Jim didn't want to blurt out something totally tasteless and rude. "In the vaguest sense. Something about ecoworship? Anarchistic?"

Blair's expression was one reserved for the pitifully misinformed, and Jim felt the need to apologize. "Sorry.  Major Incident doesn't concentrate on civilian social movements unless they're violent, like the Patriot Brigade.  There haven't been any TN actions in Cascade recently, that I know of."

"Well, it isn't worship in the religious sense, and the followers of Terra Natura would say nonconformist or libertarian, but you get the idea.  The movement is an inheritor of Gaian traditions that flourished after the great plagues.  More of a life-orienting set of principles.  The followers of Terra Natura value minimalism, simplicity and harmony with Mother Earth."

"Right," Jim said hesitantly.  "Philosophy's not my strong point."  Obviously he and Sandburg would have to work on forming some common conceptual ground here.

Blair seemed to understand his confusion.  "Let's just say that there's a tight network of followers, and by choice they avoid involvement with governmental entities.  Naomi recognized the value of Citizenship, but avoided the cultural indoctrination, at least when possible.  Anyway, there was a lot of Terra Natura activity in Cascade around the time I was born, and it was severely repressed.  Naomi was extremely active. She was advised that any further involvement would result in Civilian Affairs declaring her an unfit parent.  She accessed the network of Natura faithful, and she left with me."

Jim nodded. Blair's short summation would explain how his Guide had left nary a trace between birth and entry into Rainier University.  He'd have to remember to tell Connor.  One little mystery solved.

"Terra Natura believes in the interconnectedness of relationships, that your relationship community should reflect the interconnectedness of ecological process." Blair sipped his tea, apparently comfortable with this part of the explanation.  "Naomi is - was - ." Blair's voice hitched momentarily, and he continued.  "She was what's known as an Enlightener, meaning she was a communicator of belief. If her presence was sought by a seeker, there were credit accounts made available by the benefactor networks. We always had another place to go. When she was provided for, so was I. Whoever hosted us cobbled together traditional instruction for me as a courtesy."

"So you travelled, and you had support," Jim said with a nod.  "How does this connect?"

"Lady Elizabeth had requested an Enlightener.  She was at odds with Lord Norman, and wanted another path for her life."

"No surprise there," Jim said.

Blair sighed. "A massive understatement. I'd been at Rainier for a couple of years, but I'd just started my training at the Guide Institute. Naomi didn't approve. She volunteered for assignment to Lady Elizabeth because we could be in the same area.  She hoped by being close, she'd be able to convince me to give up the Guide Institute."

"What didn't she like about your being a Guide?" Jim said.  "It's a perfectly respectable career."

"Not as far as Terra Natura is concerned.  She thought being a Guide was a waste of my talents.  Besides, Guide is a highly structured role, just another part of an oppressive government machine."  Blair shrugged apologetically.  "Sorry if that sounds harsh.  From Naomi's point to view, it was a denial of individual expression.  Anyway, she and Lady Elizabeth became quite close, and Lady Elizabeth wanted to help.  She was such a generous person, nothing like Lord Norman."

Jim nodded. "I remember her. Most people pitied her. Her pairing with Lord Norman generated a lot of whispers."

"Truthfully, Lady Elizabeth lived a life apart when she could.  She despised him.  Anyway, she suggested I come regularly to spend time, weekends and vacations. My support from Rainier was minimal. A few creature comforts like meals and a comfortable place to study were a real treat.  I didn't see the harm - at least not then."

"But you met Alicia."

"And Lord Norman, and Bradley.  Alicia fixated on me almost immediately.  I really didn't know anything about her history."  Blair looked away.  "I'm ashamed. I didn't handle it very well."

"Don't apologize," Jim said.  "Alicia was always a problem.  At that point, she shouldn't have even been in Cascade.  I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong."

"I asked for advice. The Guide Training Institute recommended I form a transitional relationship, with the intent of placing Alicia with someone suitable."  He looked at Jim apprehensively.  "A horrible mistake.  It was a ruse, arranged through Chancellor Edwards.  The intention was to entrap me into accepting her permanently."

"You couldn't have known,"  Jim said quickly. "The Institute should have protected you.  They had to have known. Alicia was supposed to be in seclusion, by order of the Council of Lords.  Lord Norman violated their directives just by having her in public areas of the estate.  He was already perverting the process, probably from the first moment he saw Alicia latch on to you. He must have seen you as the fix for a problem he wanted to be shed of."

Blair wrapped his arms around himself.  The memory was clearly upsetting.  "At some point, I realized that.  I tried to tell Lady Elizabeth that, to get Naomi to leave, to get both of them away from the Ventriss estate.  Lady Elizabeth was angry with Lord Norman, and she loved Naomi like a sister. She was adamant that she could protect both Naomi and me.  She and Lord Norman were living apart at that point.  She never expected him to act violently against her."

"It escalated, didn't it?" 

Blair nodded miserably. "It was my fault, not Mom's. I should have insisted she leave. I started getting direct threats about her safety. You pretty much know the rest. Lord Norman arranged the accident. My cooperation was the guarantee that he'd take care of her after the accident."  Blair shivered, just thinking about it.  "Guide Services was no help.  The remediation Alicia was supposed to be getting from Rainier was a farce.  Alicia's behavior got more and more violent.  She was delusional, paranoid, unpredictable and violent."

"And you couldn't run."

"Not with Naomi's life in the balance."  He gave Jim an anguished look.  "If I spoke to Lord Norman, or tried to avoid Alicia, he'd - well, you know what he did to her. But toward the end, as her demands got more extreme, I couldn't placate Alicia enough." Blair took a deep breath. "She ambushed me with a systemic inhibitor and pushed me into the fountain on the Ventriss estate promenade.  She was looking in my face, laughing while she held me under the water."

Jim closed his eyes, shuddering at the thought.  "By the ancestors. An inhibitor?  You couldn't fight back, but you were conscious while you were drowning."

Blair gave one silent nod, tears tracking down his pale cheek.

"Someone must have found you."

Blair took a deep breath before speaking, clearly struggling for control.  "One of the day laborers hired out of the Boundary saw what happened.  He was scared to death. By any standard of self interest, he should have run the other way.  When Alicia left me for dead, he dragged me out, somehow revived me, and hid me. Fed me from his own ration. It took two days before he convinced two of his friends to help him get me off the estate."

Jim could barely nod. "They took a huge risk. Ventriss could have killed them in broad daylight and no one would have cared."

"I know. They decided that since Guide Services was in the center of Cascade, it was too risky for them to take me there. They forged a day pass into Cascade and left me propped up against the main entrance of a Health Optimization day clinic adjacent to the Boundary Train entrance."

"That was probably what saved your life."  Jim mentally calculated the time before treatment. Certainly long enough for a serious infection to take hold.  "Health Optimization stabilizes first and ask questions later."  He paused, thinking about the investigative bits that had filtered his direction.  "According to Connor, someone in the hierarchy decided they couldn't cover for Ventriss anymore. She couldn't figure out why, but another Provincial entity would definitely complicate things, especially one as meticulous as Health Optimization."  Another little mystery solved.  Health Optimization could treat and stabilize, but couldn't set right the all the machinations behind the scenes.  Blair had gone off the grid, scraping together a life, trying to keep his mother alive.

"So now you know the whole sordid thing.  It wasn't Naomi's fault. It was mine." Blair said softly, and let out a strangled sob. 

"It wasn't your fault, either.  You were a good son."

Blair began to sob in earnest. Awkwardly, Jim wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders as he convulsed with sobs.  "Jim, I miss her so much. You can't possibly understand."

 _Oh, but I do._ But that was a subject Jim didn't discuss with anyone, not his brother, not even the guide he was supposed to trust with his life.

&&&&&

"Lord Ellison, you're looking well."

"Thank you, Governor," William said, returning the formal greeting with a smile. He had supported Derek Thorneville's rise to the pinnacle of Provincial power, and they knew each other well enough to be on a first name basis, at least in private.  When William had spotted him, Thorneville had been an impressive young man; of the Houses but of a line thrice removed from direct inheritance. Such was the way of the inheritance, especially in the more traditional lines which refused to consider merit when selecting an heir.

By necessity, Thorneville was destined to make his way in the civilian side of Cascade Province. He was the perfect man to support, even if the effort took decades to bear fruit.  Thorneville was the ideal blend of intelligence, leadership and empathy towards the Landed Houses.

At this critical moment, Thorneville was a great asset come to fruition.  When approached, he'd enthusiastically arranged this joint vid broadcast. A more independent administrator could have used the situation with Ventriss and Plummer to shift the balance of power between Aristocrat and Citizen.  When approached, Thorneville had responded positively, without pressing William with a lot of uncomfortable questions.  He understood what was needed to preserve the delicate balance between Citizen and Aristocracy, the lifeblood of Cascade, and was more than willing to allow this bit of theater to play out for their mutual benefit.

So here they were, together. They would balance change with preservation.  The Houses would avoid a mortal blow that might have spawned open rebellion. William would advance his own private plans, and Thorneville would have unequivocal Council of Lords support as he moved forward with critical reform.  Bad actors like Chancellor Edwards and Provincial Security Director David Evans would be swept aside, leaving room for new appointees who embraced a new vision for Cascade.

Each man was conscious of the role they needed to play.  With luck and skill, they would buy Cascade Province another generation or two of peace and survival.

Thorneville escorted him inside, gesturing toward the broadcast venue.  "We've assembled quite an illustrious entourage. The initial portion of the vidcast will be devoted to introducing them to the Citizens, complete with biographies prepared by my staff.  Even the dullest Level Four will be wildly impressed.  Their presence should reinforce our message to the Citizens of Cascade."

William's eyes swept the assemblage.  Of course, he'd made suggestions as to who might be best to include.  He noted with satisfaction that Thorneville had taken his advice seriously, but he was searching for one individual in particular. The other participants were already filing into position.  William allowed himself a surge of satisfaction as his most important suggestion filed in, flanked by Provincial Interagency Chief Warren, Cascade's Security Supervisor and several other Security Services officers.

"We have some time before our address," Thorneville said, nodding toward a man to his left. "You know my Adjutant, Fallon Pines.  He's arranged for refreshments, and a bit of privacy.  If you'll follow me."  The antechamber was quite comfortable and well stocked.  Thorneville settled comfortably in one of the chairs, while Pines poured small measures of a fine red from the Ellison vineyards east of the mountains.  "I sent you the text of my presentation."

"Excellent work, Governor. Our Citizens will be reassured. I must say, demoting Security Director Evans to Reclamation and Recycling is particularly fitting. I'll have trouble keeping a straight face during the announcement."

"You're too kind," Thorneville said with a genuine grin.  "Pompous bastard.  It was my pleasure to tell him in person.  He took it in delightfully bad form."

"I trust the experience was entertaining," William said dryly. 

"Quite. But back to the matter at hand. Thanks to our Security Services and Prosecutor Sanchez, I'll be able to announce that Chancellor Edwards has been summarily removed from her post and detained.  To reassure the populace, any Citizen who experienced a rejection from one of our training institutions may request an immediate review. It will be part of the reform package. We'll vow to root out corruption wherever we find it."

William nodded his approval. "Very wise, Governor. Education continues to be the great hope of the lower classes.  The promise of upward mobility based on merit for a few reassures the many."

"Exactly. Many of them won't be overturned, but we should find a few meritorious cases to offer up." Thorneville leaned forward, lowering his voice.  "You have a plum of your own to offer.  A new House from the ashes of Ventriss.  What a stroke of genius!"

"My fellow members of the Council of Lords seemed to think so," William said. _And none of them know just how far I intend to scourge that name from the collective consciousness of Cascade._

"Lord Harcourt insists he has no idea of the choice.  Surely, you don't intend to keep me in the dark as well," Thorneville said. "A small hint, before we take the dais?"

William shook his head. "A secret it shall remain, my friend.  After the ceremony, you can critique my choice."

&&&&&

"Are you sure you returned my baby without a scratch?" Steven asked.  He couldn't resist the tease.

"I believe you checked the hull yourself."  Kimiko crossed her arms in mock annoyance.  "I've decided you love your transportation more than you love me. If you're not nice, I'll go out and crash it myself on purpose."

"In that case, I take it back."  He bowed formally. "Or shall I kneel, and beg forgiveness."

Her laugh danced on his ears. No doubt it was selfish of him to call Kimiko away from the family home.  All Cascade was in a state of anticipation, waiting for the Governor to make his unprecedented address to the Province.  It was natural in the face of change to draw back to the most basic units of their culture.  For the Citizen, that was immediate family, or perhaps some ad hoc assemblage of work associates or friends.  For those born to it, there was no substitute for the House of your birth.

So where was he, Steven Jonathon Christopher Ellison, to go?  He had no desire to be present when his father addressed the Province. Jim?  One day, hopefully soon, but not yet.  Jim had his hands full.  It was Kimiko's company he craved, but he could not bring himself to join House Akiyama at this moment.  So he had asked, and she had come. 

He gathered up a tray of fruit and her favorite tea, intending to brush past her suggestively on the way toward the seating area.  "Am I forgiven?" he asked.

She rewarded him with a kiss as he passed.  "When I'm your consort, who knows what havoc I might plot on your personal possessions? I have a devious mind, you know."

She joined him in the seating area, and as usual, her graceful movements stirred his heart. Watching Kimiko in motion was akin to following a leaf fluttering and spinning in the wind. She curled up next to him, and Steven pulled her closer.  "I'm used to devious minds," he said.  "Remember who raised me.  Besides, we have much to discuss.  After all, it's not every day you successfully negotiate for a consort, and the parties are actually pleased." He frowned momentarily. "Actually, I can't remember the last time my parent seemed thrilled with something I chose. It's probably an ominous sign."

"Don't be silly," Kimiko said with a delighted giggle.  "At our age, parents oppose out of duty.  It prevents overconfidence."

Steven rolled his eyes. "Kimiko, my beloved, no Ellison child ever, ever suffered from an inflated sense of self worth. When the first Ellison father stalked out of the cave, it was to criticize the hand axe his son had just flaked from the flint."

"You exaggerate terribly."

"I'm serious. It's a genetic defect, handed down through the generations."

Kimiko wriggled free to tickle his ribs.  "How fortunate you've chosen a geneticist.  I'll deal with that immediately."  She gave up her attempts to harass him.  "I hate to spoil the moment, but I must ask.  What arrangements have been made for Blair Sandburg's mother?"

"I just spoke with Jim before you arrived."  He paused, considering how much of the conversation with his brother should be shared. Jim had vacillated between rage, confusion and worry.  He'd contacted Steven the moment Sandburg had finally dropped off into an uneasy sleep.

Steven had to admit, the details of Blair Sandburg's story was the stuff of nightmares. The tale had reawakened all Jim's suspicions, and he'd acted immediately.  A terse conversation concerning Lord William's duties as Exequial Agent for Naomi Sandburg ensued.  According to Jim, the exchange had been heated, and not settled.  His intention was to hammer out an agreement that marginally fulfilled as many of Naomi Sandburg's rather eccentric beliefs as was possible. Blair would say his final goodbyes at dawn, in a secluded corner of the Ellison estate, without ceremony.  

_Not that you don't agree with him._

And that was the problem, part of his general anxiety.  In moments, their father and Head of House would stand at the side of Governor Thorneville, speaking to the entire Province as the sole representative for the Council of Lords.  Jim maintained - in the most compelling words imaginable - that any statement made would further the plans of William Ellison far more than those of his peers. This was not an attractive thought to either brother.

Wheels within wheels, plans within plans, as always.  Despite their mutual defiance and apparent success acting together, William Ellison was not a man who accepted a setback without a counterattack.  Jim, who possessed far more courage that any person Steven had ever known, feared what might unfold.  Jim had a guide to protect, Steven had Kimiko and all that they hoped for together.  They could anticipate, but forewarned would not change the reality.  Neither of them could deter or change the wishes of the Head of House Ellison.

&&&&&

_Citizens of Cascade, as your Governor, I come before you tonight to bring our beloved Province back from the brink At my side is Lord William Ellison, representing the Council of Lords.  You have already met through the vidcast the servants of the Province who join us in this room._

_You have all heard the rumors. Corruption, betrayal, murder and treason have struck at the very heart of our Province.  It is time now for truth and for solidarity of purpose as we move forward.  Your Provincial leaders are committed to this great effort.  Our brothers and sisters of the Landed Houses, who tamed the chaos of the dark times and laid the foundations of our Province generations ago, join us._

_I will tell you of the gallantry of our Security Forces.  A sonic cannon in our Province!  Intended to bring us all into subservience!  Such is the treason of Garrett Kincaid and his Patriot Brigade.  The star and eagle of this band of brigands will be crushed. To think that a House of the Founding Fifty was part of this intended barbarism!  None of this will go unpunished.  Justice will be done!  Cascade will survive, and see a brighter future._

So it began. The streets were deserted, every Citizen of Cascade clustered with their closest associates. They collectively hung on every word as their Governor spoke. 

In Major Incident, the core personnel were gathered together.  How could they not?  Captains Banks and Taggert would be honored, and Major Incident commended for their collective actions. Taggert had called them in to view as the unit they were, even though their Captains would be elsewhere.  They toasted their absent comrade, Jim Ellison, and his new guide, knowing they were safe at long last.

At Blair's insistence, Jim had capitulated and agreed to view the vidcast with Daryl Banks. Jim had objected, citing all kinds of reasonable arguments like the need to rest, but to no avail. Daryl was young, and his family elsewhere.  He'd been kind to Blair, his father was in the spotlight, and he deserved to have company. In the end, Blair had simply shaken his head and left their sanctuary, with Jim trailing behind. They joined the young man in front of the largest viewer in the common area of the safe house.

Jim had to admit, Thorneville's address was compelling, even though the three of them had lived the events under discussion in the first person and didn't need a recap. The Governor spoke at length about his intention to clean up the corruption in Cascade, to renew the balance between privilege and collective duty.  He spoke of the need for all to answer to commonly held standards of decency, of fair justice when called for.

Even Jim's cynical soul wanted to believe it was possible.  It was gratifying to hear Banks, Taggert and Major Incident cited for their work.  He watched Blair carefully as his mother's ordeal was referenced. Blair looked away and seemed lost in his own thoughts, but remained calm.

Then the moment Jim had been dreading came.  Head of House Ellison stood before the Province, resplendent in his regalia, impressive and commanding. To Jim's jaundiced eye the sincerity and passion rang hollow, but no doubt resonated with the Province. The members of the Houses who weren't quaking in their boots were no doubt pleased.  Bile rose in Jim's throat as Lord William spoke of justice for Bradley and Norman Ventriss.

At that point, Jim tuned out. He knew, or suspected how things would really go.  He was adrift in his own memories and visions of personal vengeance against all things Ventriss when a crash had him clapping hands over ears.  Daryl had dropped a goblet, which had promptly shattered.  A pool of pomegranate juice that all three of them had been sharing was spreading across the floor.  Daryl was staring at the vid viewer, oblivious to the mess. Blair was motionless, his mouth hanging open.

Jim gave the command to replay. The vid recycled to his father's closing remarks.

_The Council of Lords will not tolerate this outlaw behavior amongst their own.  The Charter of House Ventriss now bears the black seals.  It exists no more._

_The Council of Lords recognizes, that in light of these crimes, we mist make amends with our Citizen brothers and sisters. Our Province, from its inception, has embraced the recognition of merit where it be found. It is time to honor this principle, and to acknowledge the worthiness of outstanding individual citizens within Cascade Province._

_For the first time in four generations, out of the ashes of House Ventriss, a new House will be brought forward, and the founding bloodline will not come from our midst.  The founding Head of House represents all that Cascade Province holds sacred: honor, courage, intelligence, and strength. By the Ancestors, stand and be recognized, Simon Amiri Banks._

Epilogue:

Lord William Ellison stood before the viewing bay of his private suite.  The first rays of dawn were reaching their tendrils from east to west, setting the lake surface ablaze with reflected shades of pink and gold. Just within his view, where the lake meadow reached the first graceful cedars, the figure of his son and his benighted guide were outlined in shade and shadow. 

Ridiculous, antiquated custom. As if returning the bodily elements to the earth did anything for the departed.  To think the first request had been for actual burial! By the ancestors, as if we still lived in the age of crypts and tombs.  He'd been forced to spin some nonsense about organ degeneration and placate James with ashes.  Fortunately, James was distracted enough to acquiesce.  It would have been singularly difficult to produce Naomi Sandburg, since she was currently engaged elsewhere.  Intimately so.

Medic Lamanna was a trusted retainer.  His performance at the Security Services medical suite had been flawless, from faked demise to deft removal.  Whisked from under their collective noses before anyone thought to question more closely. Naomi Sandburg had survived transport, and the renegade cloner was cooperating, as expected. Amazing how the threat of exposure induced compliance.  When all was finished, Lamanna would see to it that the cloner and his perverted craft ceased to exist.

Ah, the little exercise in eternity was apparently complete.  William watched as James escorted his guide to his transport, and the ship circled into the growing day.  Let James have his illusions of independence.  When all was in readiness, Guide Sandburg would bring his son back to House Ellison, drawn by the most irresistible bait imaginable.

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My intention is to continue this story - check Sentinel Thursday on Live Journal if you have the patience for posting in parts.


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